


Paying for Poison

by SaerenDPity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Phichit Chulanont, Alpha Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auction, Beta Katsuki Yuuri, Black Markets, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Children, Divergence happens after Sochi GPF, Eventual Fluff, First Chapters Are Sad, Forced Bonding, Forced Heats, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Prostitution, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, I used real-life ISU dates, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Christophe Giacometti, Omega Otabek Altin, Omega Verse, Omega Victor Nikiforov, Past Rape/Non-con, Post Mpreg, Protective Chris, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Yuri Plisetsky, Slow Burn, Sochi GPF takes place in 2012, Story starts in 2017, but it gets better, for now, omega lee seung gil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-01-02 21:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 129,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21167918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaerenDPity/pseuds/SaerenDPity
Summary: "Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhoodhero knew his name, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement."Yes th-that's me.  Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."…Years after Viktor Nikiforov suddenly disappeared from the public eye, he resurfaces at the Rostelecom Cup, desperate for help. And Yuuri simply cannot abandon the man who inspired almost every aspect of his life, and so, he makes the decision to do just as Viktor asks - buy his services as an omega for one night.





	1. Paying for Poison

**Author's Note:**

> _"Walking in the garden was a serpent-shaped heart and he told me_   
_What is broken cannot show, and less than beautiful is worse than unholy_   
_Idolized my innocence,_   
_Stole it from me in the end_   
_Now I'm wide awake and I'm still paying for the poison they sold me"_
> 
> _~Eden, Sara Bareilles_

"_Moya zvezdochka1…_" Viktor blinked as he heard the endearment said almost tenderly on his alpha's salacious tongue. Glancing over across the back of the car's bench, he saw the bulk of the man that used to be the light of his life looking pointedly out the window. Lolling his head to see what it was that Ivan was looking at, he found he recognized where they were. Heart thumping in a way that it hadn't in years, his breath caught. The Megasport Palace stretched above them. Vaguely he wondered if they were there to see a basketball game, and he winced at the hazy memories of hands finding their way where they had no business. An involuntary whimper escaped his throat, and he turned back to Ivan.

Crawling across the seats he wrapped his arms around his alpha's neck and hid his face into the crook of a broad shoulder.

"Vanya… can we please go home?" he asked as sweetly as he could, releasing the only weapon he had against what he was expecting to come. If he could successfully arouse Ivan enough with his pheromones, then he'd at least know who was going to be touching him that night. The sharp slap across his thigh signaled that whatever was planned for the evening could not be changed, and he stopped releasing pheromones immediately. "I'm sorry, Alpha." came the quick apology. "I was only thinking of spending the night with you."

"Don't lie, _zvezdochka._" Was all Ivan said before shoving Viktor away. Flinching away from any other hit that might land, Viktor waited, but blessedly, none came. "Get out of the car. At the very least you can watch the programs while I speak to other businessmen."

Schooling his face to remain neutral, Viktor nodded and exited the car. Waiting in place for Ivan to come around the other side and wrap a possessive arm around his waist, he fell in perfect step. It was only then that he realized what he was wearing. He didn't remember being told to put it on, but that didn't mean much. More often than not, Ivan would tell him what to wear and he'd obey without even thinking. But it wasn't often that Ivan would ask him to wear a button down shirt, tie and slacks under his thick, tailored overcoat. Tentatively, he reached up to feel how his hair was styled, and found it to be slicked back with a strand or two framing his forehead. The tackiness of his eyes told him he was wearing eyeliner, and the sweet cherry flavor on his lips spoke of lip gloss. Even his collar was the demure black one instead of the gaudy jewels to which he was accustomed. He was dressed professionally that evening. Odd.

Looking up and finally taking in the other spectators that were filing into the sports complex, he saw much the same. No one was dressed for a basketball game, there were no painted faces, no jerseys, in fact - the crowd looked very familiar. Then he saw the banners and gasped. Rostelecom Cup. Ivan had brought him to a Grand Prix competition. The question was why? He hadn't been to any ice skating events in… well, he wasn't sure how long, but it had been a very long time. One banner boasted the year 2017. And that answered that question. Had it really been five years since he had dropped out right before Sochi's Grand Prix Final?

Ivan handed their tickets to an usher and in exchange they were given a program, which Ivan handed to Viktor. Biting back the urge to eagerly look through it and see if there were any skaters he knew, he held it politely, and allowed himself to be guided to the elevators to take them to a box suite. Leaning into Ivan, he almost hid his eyes from the bright, harsh lights that could only be in a sporting venue. Funny that he used to live beneath these lights, and now he wished he could disappear into a shadow. A familiar pounding in his chest bespoke of anxiety instead of the excitement he used to feel upon entering such a place. If it had been five years, all of his friends would no longer be there. He didn't even know if Yakov would be there, he'd been thinking of retiring from coaching years ago - there was no reason to expect any familiar, friendly, faces. 

They entered their usual box, that was often shared with Ivan's business associates, and Ivan deposited him into one of the chairs. Viktor smiled his thanks and began to remove his coat, draping it carefully over his arm before casually opening the program. Letting out a small breath, he realized that he recognized none of the names, at least, not any with whom he'd once been on a first name basis. The few Russian competitors were from Moscow, not St. Petersburg. One from Japan and one from Thailand (that oddly, he noted, had the same coach), a couple from the United States, and eight others from random countries spanning the globe. Taking a controlled deep breath, he settled resignedly into his seat. The foolish hope that he'd be able to even get down to the rink, and then back stage, was far too much, but he would have tried if he'd known any of the competitors. Of course Ivan would have made sure that none of them would know who he was personally. The Japanese competitor, however, was very attractive. 

It certainly explained his attire, however. Ivan hardly could allow his spouse to dress scandalously at the events he used to compete. Small things to be thankful for, Viktor supposed, being able to be comfortably clothed.

Vaguely, he recognized the hand that entered his vision, holding a glass of wine.

"Thank you, Vanya." he tilted his head up and offered a small smile as he took the glass. Ivan settled into the seat next to him, obviously waiting for something else. Viktor scrambled, "And thank you for bringing me. I'll enjoy seeing the programs."

"That's not all you're here for, remember." Ivan muttered and Viktor recognized the threat. Viktor chanced a glance around the box that was filling with others he didn't recognize. So that was it, Ivan had opened up the pool of potential 'customers', as he called them. A wave of nausea rolled through Viktor's stomach. Of course ice skating patrons would be the logical place to solicit business. He'd been Russia's hero for several years, after all. Many would pay handsomely for a night with him.

"Of course, Alpha." Viktor said meekly, the blush on his cheeks pretty, but not the coy shyness that Vanya had come to expect. Rather he felt like he would rather vomit. Ivan grunted in approval, and sat back, arm draped over Viktor's chair.

Viktor didn't even notice the show starting, didn't register the programs being performed right before his eyes. He didn't see Ivan step away and strike up conversations with the wealthy sponsors behind him. Unseeing eyes were merely fixated on the ice. Competitor after competitor went, scores being announced, cheers and sympathetic winces from the crowd thundered around him, but nothing brought him out of the stupor he allowed himself to sink into. It was his escape. Ivan hadn't liked how the medicine had made him so vacant, but Viktor embraced it fully. If he didn't fully recognize what was going on, he wouldn't have night terrors, he wouldn't have to remember.

That is, until Christophe Giacometti's name was announced. Viktor looked up to the speaker sharply, and then flinched away from it. If Ivan had noticed the recognition, he'd be furious and they'd have to leave immediately. But Ivan wasn't next to him any more. Viktor looked over his shoulder and saw Ivan's handsome smile winning over some besotted business man and his wife.

"Of course, we'll be back to see the Men's Free Skate. _Moya zvezdochka _wouldn't miss it! He has such fond memories." He was saying, and Viktor cringed. It was a common pattern. With basketball or hockey there was usually a few games in a row they would attend, the first would be introductions and wooing, the second the tiniest of samples of the product, then the third would be when paper invitations would be extended. So it seemed this would be no different.

Reaffixing his gaze on the ice, he didn't see Chris, instead he saw the Japanese skater take to the ice and position himself center circle. Glancing down to the program, he saw the name 'Yuuri Katsuki, coach Celestino Cialdini' and a brief biography. Had he imagined Chris' name over the announcement? He didn't think so.

The music started, and Viktor watched carefully. As Katsuki moved, Viktor's breath caught. He was beautiful. Music seemed to come from his movements rather than over the sound system. There was an emotion there that seemed to be disappearing from the programs others were performing, and it was stunning. Then he began to recognize some of the elements, and he blinked. Chris _must_ have choreographed Katsuki's short program. Only he'd be brazen enough to put in such a sexual movement, and then to see it from the lithe Japanese man, Viktor was entranced.

As Katsuki finished, took his bows and picked up a rice ball tossie, Viktor was starting to piece together a plan. Most of it was hopeful, merely wishful thinking, but if luck was on his side for once, maybe, just maybe, he could reach out to Chris.

* * *

It was a hard won couple of days, keeping himself coherent enough to be able to tell when they'd be leaving for the free skate program. Wanting nothing more than to retreat back into daydreams and nothingness. He'd found an old pass in a memory book with its lanyard. With a blue pen, he fixed the year to be current. It was sloppy, but it'd have to do, and he knew full well that security guards didn't look as closely as they should. Placing it under his shirt that Ivan had told him to wear, he ensured it wouldn't be visible through the fabric, and he buttoned his overcoat for extra measure.

As he reached Ivan's study to wait for his mate to be ready to go, he opened the top drawer and took out one of the small invitations. The date on it was after the Grand Prix final, almost a month away, and he hoped that Katsuki was an honest, good man. If not, then all of this would be for naught, and the punishment if he were caught would be unthinkable. Shoving away the trepidation of what Ivan would do if his actions were discovered, he wrote Chris' name on the invitation and shoved it into his pocket.

He was waiting for Ivan on the couch when the alpha entered the study.

"Eager, are you?" Ivan chuckled. "Perhaps we should go to these damned events more often if it gets you off your ass and into the car."

"Yes, Vanya." was all Viktor could say. But he had to fight back his protest as Ivan produced the bottle of pills. The hormone dosage would be increased that night. The sinking disappointment in Viktor's stomach was almost too much, but he fought to stay present. He couldn't argue, knowing that Ivan wanted to display just how deep into submission Viktor would be able to go. He wanted to display how responsive Viktor could be toward others, even outside a full blown heat. Dutifully he placed the pill in his mouth and gave a swallow, opening his mouth afterward for Ivan's inspection that he had indeed taken it.

Once at the Palace, Viktor fixed his face to the neutral vacancy that Ivan expected, and drank the wine, nibbled on the offered aperitifs, and waited until Ivan was deep in a conversation about American stock or some such nonsense. The pill was making him far more hazy than he wanted to be, and he could feel his mind slipping away in moments before he jolted it back in horror. This was his chance and he couldn't lose it to the hormones that Ivan forced on him. Once he knew he wouldn't be able to continue this further without losing himself completely, he left his coat on his chair and sidled up to the alpha and whispered his need to use the restroom.

"Do you remember the way?" came the grumpy murmur. A palm came to his cheek, and he was grateful that he was sweaty enough to warrant a freshening up.

"Of course, Vanya." Viktor purred softly against his ear, giving him a kiss on the cheek for good measure - ever the doting omegan partner. His touch lingered on the alpha's hand, and it wasn't entirely for show. He hated how good it felt to have contact with another while the medicine raced through his body.

"Be quick."

And Viktor was. He'd have to be fast, and prayed that Ivan would be too distracted by the prospect of money to notice he was taking far longer in the bathroom than what would be acceptable. If anything, he'd feign getting lost. As if he could get lost in the venue he'd performed in for years, even with the medicine that Ivan kept pumping through his veins.

In the elevator, he pulled the lanyard out from under his shirt, and double checked that the narrow paper that was in his pocket was still there. Going through security, his old pass working as he'd hoped, he fought through the haze his head was in. Desperately hoping he wasn't walking as though he was as drunk as he felt, he found one of the young Russian skaters that was stretching against a wall. The boy couldn't have been older than 16, and had headphones blaring in his ears. Viktor tapped on his shoulder, mustering every ounce of confidence he could to show that he _belonged_. 

"Skater Katsuki?" he asked, ignoring the double take the young skater gave him. Yes, he was Viktor Nikiforov. No, he hadn't been seen on the circuit in five years. But that didn't matter. This was _his_ domain, drunk on fake hormones or not.

"Locker room, I think." the boy shrugged at him. Viktor nodded and headed toward the door that he knew led to the lockers.

* * *

Yuuri hated the moments before competitions with the fire of the burning sun. His stomach was tight and rolling, forehead beaded with a cold sweat. Hands trembled as he took a drink from his water bottle, and he adjusted his hips into a stretch against the bench. One earbud was hanging from his ear, and the other was tucked into the collar of his Japan jacket so he could still hear the announcements. He'd learned his lesson before, when Ciao Ciao had found him in a secluded corner, absorbed in his music and barely making the ice with seconds to spare. If he wanted to warm up alone, he had to pay attention.

It also helped to hear whenever the door to the locker room slammed shut as it just had. He took a deep and calming breath, and turned to go see who had come, half expecting Phichit to appear around the corner. Instead he saw a man in dark trousers, silver hair slicked back, and a lanyard that was clearly not from _this_ competition. Press, probably. And Yuuri scowled.

"Um, sorry, this area is for skaters onl-" Yuuri's voice strangled in his throat as the man before him turned. His appearance was much changed - thin, like he needed to eat katsudon for months before regaining his old figure, his eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed as though he had a fever. It seemed as though his legs trembled beneath his own weight. But Yuuri would know that face, that hair, anywhere. Years of watching him and far too many posters on his bedroom wall ensured that he'd recognize him even in this state. But the look on the other man's face banished any thoughts other than what seemed to be wrong. "Are… are you in heat?"

"Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhood hero _knew his name_, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement.

"Yes th-that's me. Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"

Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Moya Zvezdochka_ \- my little star.


	2. "I Have Some Questions"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"In a cold night_   
_There will be no fair fight_   
_There will be no good night_   
_To turn and walk away_   
_To burn me with fire,_   
_Drown me with rain_   
_I'm gonna wake up_   
_Screaming your name"_
> 
> _~ We Remain, Christina Aguilera_

_"Skater Katsuki?" Yuuri's eyes widened as he nodded, and suddenly Viktor Nikiforov was clutching at his coat. He barely registered that his childhood hero knew his name, he couldn't think on that when Viktor's voice was on the edge of breaking. Desperation lined his every movement. _

_"Yes th-that's me. Um… Mr. Nikiforov… Do… do you need help?"_

_Viktor shook his head violently and shoved his hand into Yuuri's pocket. Yuuri only had time to squeak before Viktor was backing away, breathing heavily. "Please… please buy me."_

* * *

"… What?" Yuuri asked, taking a step forward, and Viktor held up an open palm to stop his advance.

"Can't stay." he muttered, and fled the locker room, leaving Yuuri standing there flabbergasted. It took him far too long to move into action, and he ran out the door. Looking up and down the hall, he found it to be empty.

"Wow, Katsuki, you're really losing it…" he whispered to himself and sighed, taking a few steps in the direction he hoped Viktor had gone. His steps were hurried as he continued talking to himself under his breath. "What in the world was that?" 

"Hey, did he find you?" a thick accented voice came from down the corridor. Yuuri turned and saw Anton Kuznetsov walking toward him casually. It was his first year in the senior circuit, and was the one giving Yuuri and Peach a good run for their money. He was certain to podium.

"Who?" Yuuri asked him, a little cross from the interruption. He _needed_ to find Viktor. His body rotated away, trying to signal that it wasn't a good time for Anton to be talking to him.

"Nikiforov. I didn't know he was on your team." Anton's tone was almost accusatory, and Yuuri gulped. So he hadn't had an insane hallucination. _Viktor Nikiforov_ had been there, and what was more, it seemed he'd asked for him specifically. 

"Yeah, he did. Thank you." he said softly, taking another step, but Anton continued.

"Was hoping to talk to him more. What's he been doing all this time?"

"I don't know." Yuuri frowned at his shoes, trying to piece everything together. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and felt a piece of paper that had most definitely not been there a few minutes ago. "Um, he's not… you know, on my team."

"Oh." Anton suddenly seemed to deflate, mimicking Yuuri and shoving his hands in his Russian skate jacket. "That's too bad. I was hoping he'd made a comeback as a coach or something."

Yuuri chuckled hollowly, "If he did, it wouldn't be for me."

"Oh, well. " Anton shrugged and began to walk back from whence he had come. "See you at the bottom of the podium."

"Sure thing…" Yuuri muttered distractedly, not realizing the snub from the teenager. He almost tore the door to the locker room off its hinge to get back inside. That short interlude most assuredly had given Viktor enough time to escape, and it had been clear from the way he had fled that he wasn't interested in sticking around for Yuuri's questions. But he'd left something behind. Pulling the paper out of his pocket, he scanned the text. If he had thought his anxiety was bad a moment before, it was nothing compared to what it was after reading the invitation.

_Omegan Auction_

_December 12, 2017_

_Champion Figure Skater Viktor Nikiforov Headlining_

_Limit of One Night per Omega_

_Black Tie_

'For Christophe' was scrawled up at the top in a shaky hand, and on the back there was an address and details of how to RSVP. Yuuri was breathing heavily, scraping any coherent thought he could through his mind. Viktor had disappeared from figure skating right before the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, 2012. He had cited a broken ankle in a heart breaking press conference, and Yuuri remembered the devastation that he'd never be able to skate against his idol. Soon after that, a publicist had issued a statement of Viktor's permanent retirement, and not one reporter had been able to reach anyone for comment. His coach Yakov had eventually admitted that Viktor wished to cut all ties with the skating community, and that was that. Amidst the chaos of Viktor falling from the top of his career to the vague lines of articles that referenced his records that were now all broken - Yuuri even holding one for the highest free skate program score - Russia's hero had faded to complete obscurity 

What was more, Yuuri had heard from Chris himself that Viktor had completely disappeared from all of his friends' lives. Even Yakov hadn't heard from him after the announcement of retiring was published, and the publicist team had said there was no forwarding information. They'd been hired to do the single announcement, had never worked with Viktor before, and were instructed to give no comment. No one had been able to reach him, his apartment abandoned and Makkachin taken in by Yakov's ex-wife. Everyone had been left to think that the injury had affected the great skater so much that he couldn't stand being around anyone that reminded him of his old life. Chris had known something to be terribly wrong, and Yakov had attempted to enlist the police, and there had been a search conducted. Nothing had turned up. Viktor was just simply gone. Rumors of suicide had persisted for a while, but when Yakov's temper had proved to be far worse when the subject of Viktor's fate had been brought up, even the speculative whispers had stopped.

So _why_ did he show up now? Why did he look as though he was about to fall over from heat hormones? Why had he sought out Yuuri, of all people? And what in the world did the auction mean? Surely it wasn't the black market auctions that sometimes cropped up on the news and then disappeared as fast. There wasn't any way that Viktor could be part of something like that, right? 

Ripping his phone out of his other pocket, Yuuri knew he needed more insight. This was far above his head, his comprehension. Dialing the Swiss skater-turned-coach, he choked when there was an answer. 

"_Mon cher1!_ What a lovely performance you gave the other night. You did our program proud." Chris' praise flooded through the speaker. When Yuuri couldn't say anything, Chris' tone went from pride to concern. "Yuuri? Are you having an anxiety attack? Where is Ciao Ciao or that delectable Peach?"

"Viktor… Viktor was here." Yuuri finally managed. Chris was silent on the other end for a beat. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. After a few years of nothing from his best friend, he'd taken the rumors of Viktor's death as fact and had grieved heavily to the point where his own retirement from competitive skating had been the only option left for him 

"Don't joke, Yuuri. That's not funny."

"_I'm not!_" Yuuri's voice was strangled, and his lungs screamed so loud for breath that he started coughing. "Chris, he… he was here. He told me to buy him." 

"Yuuri, you need to find Ciao Ciao. I don't think you should skate if your panic attack is this bad…"

"No!" Yuuri shouted, hand flying to his hair, mussing his careful style. "Chris! Viktor was here! He gave me an invitation for… for an omegan auction… and then ran away, it says your name on it, and _he told me to buy him!_"

Chris was silent long enough that Yuuri looked at his phone to see if the line had disconnected. He was about to ask him if he was still there when he finally spoke, a deadly seriousness lacing his tone.

"Send me a picture of the invitation, Yuuri. Then get your ass to Ciao Ciao and tell him what happened… When do you fly to Japan?"

"T-two days."

"Tell no one else but Tino. Hopefully he's still there somewhere and we can get to him. But you need to pretend like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

Of course he didn't understand. It wasn't that the instructions were so complicated that he wouldn't be able to comprehend or follow through with them, it was that the situation was so damned _bizarre_ that he was having trouble getting his thoughts straight.

"Yuuri!" Chris' urgent voice came through and jolted him from his blank, panicked thoughts. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Yuuri's reply was weak, and then he cleared his throat as everything fully registered. If Viktor was still there, maybe Celestino could act fast when he had not. His voice grew stronger. "Yes, I understand. I gotta go."

"Tell Ciao Ciao to call me when he knows something." Chris added, and then muttered, "I'll… I'll call Yakov…"

The line hung up and Yuuri had the distinct impression that calling Yakov wasn't something that he needed to know about. It seemed Chris was also shocked and talking to himself. Yuuri snapped several pictures of the invitation, his hand shaking as he held it leaving the first couple of photos blurry, and sent all of them to Chris, then started walking to try and find his coach. In his hand, his phone vibrated and almost made him jump. It was only Chris giving an 'okay' emoji to let him know the messages were received. The halls of the complex went by in a blur, the cheers from the crowd as someone finished their routine a dull roar in the background as he searched. Finally, he found the query of his search. Celestino was with Phichit in the green room, watching another competitor's program on the television there.

"Yuuri?" Phichit noticed him first, as usual, his dark brows almost hidden in his hairline. Ciao Ciao only turned from viewing the screen when he heard Phichit's tone and his eyes alighted on Yuuri with a puzzled expression. "What's wrong?"

"Ciao Ciao… I need to talk to you." Yuuri muttered, and Celestino frowned down at him and waited expectantly. It was clear his coach was expecting this to be just another one of his panic attacks, not the bombshell he was about to drop. "Alone."

* * *

Finally back in Hasetsu, Yuuri slumped to the table next to Celestino. The previous few days had been a whirlwind of things to do, between Chris, Yakov, and his own coach frantically contacting security, police, and searching for Viktor, and then flights to Japan. Nothing had turned up beyond a few security frames and Celestino slamming his fist on the table in the room after they viewed the footage. After encountering Yuuri, Viktor had made his way dazedly back up to the third floor, the floor with the box seats, and then was whisked away from the arena by a large man with dark coloring. It had certainly seemed as though Viktor was in some sort of trouble. At least, the man had not been happy with him. It made Yuuri sick when he thought of it. 

Police had tried to identify the man with the video, but had no luck. Much to Yuuri and Celestino's dismay, they had not interviewed any of the attendees from the box that Viktor had been in before he'd journeyed below to find Yuuri. They cited that the box was rented by a corporation, and something about infringement of privacy laws and a possible prank. When Yuuri had moved to show them the invitation, Celestino had stopped him, later explaining that if the police were too afraid to go against the owner of the box for something as simple as an interview, the Bratva was likely involved, somehow. Later, Yakov had confirmed just that. If they had shown the invitation, whomever held Viktor might be tipped off by a corrupt officer. It was the one thing they had on their side. None of this had made Yuuri feel any better.

He had skated terribly, of course. The last one to take the ice thanks to his high score from the short program, he'd popped a few jumps, downgrading them from quads and triples to doubles or singles with one shaky triple axel-double toe in the second half. Somehow, he had taken bronze.

Shaken from his thoughts by the clatter of a few dishes placed in front of him by his mother, he gave her a weak smile. Katsudon, of course. While he hadn't won gold, his family always considered any podium slot a win, and consequently celebrated just as hard as if he'd taken the gold at the Olympics. The food smelled delicious, but he couldn't bring himself to enjoy it as much. Viktor's slight frame suggesting starvation the more he thought about it kept coming to his mind. How could he eat knowing that his hero was out there being abused, had asked him for help, and he'd failed to provide it?

"Eat up, Yuuri." Celestino said from his place at the table. "You need your strength."

Picking up the chopsticks obediently, Yuuri began to eat, making the appropriate 'mmm' at different intervals while still mulling things over in his mind.

"I can't go to the auction, Yuuri." Chris had concluded on their earlier phone call. "I don't think it's coincidence that Viktor has only shown up now, after everyone he knew has retired or wouldn't be at the Cup. I think if I were to go, then the whole thing would be shut down and we'd lose Viktor for good."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Yuuri had asked, still completely exasperated by the way events had unfolded, and even more incredulous that Chris was refusing to go to the so-called party that was on the invitation. Even if his arguments made sense, the idea of not going was making his stomach roll. "We can't just leave him!"

"We're not going to!" Chris' voice was emphatic, and then he paused. "I want you to go. Yakov thinks it's a good idea, too."

"A good idea? That is a _terrible_ idea!" Yuuri had been able to feel his blood falling from his face like a pebble from a ledge.

"Well… he thinks it's the best idea we have." Chris had corrected himself, "Viktor will know you, and seems to already trust you enough to find you. Once you get to him, then everyone else can help take over. 

"I don't have any _money_. How could I win bids at an auction?"

"Yakov and I have that covered. Just… think on it, okay? Please?"

And of course, it had all he'd been able to think about in the hours since. Too many things could go wrong with their idea. The address on the invitation had simply been a pick-up point for cab drivers. Even if Yuuri was able to get to the actual auction, there was every chance that whatever money Yakov and Chris could give wouldn't be enough. There wasn't even any guarantee that Viktor's name would be on the list - what if it was some sort of code name that only the deranged psychopaths that attended these type of parties would know? And what if he bid on the wrong person? He could easily end up with an omega that was not Viktor. And even if all of it went smoothly, Viktor was expecting Chris, not him. How could he get Viktor to trust him enough with his _life? _And even if that went okay, there was getting Viktor out of an unknown place. If it was rural, outside of city limits, then there wouldn't be any taxis without ordering one, and that would draw too much suspicion. And if Yakov and Celestino were right, and it was the Russian mafia involved, that put Yuuri at a huge risk. That wasn't as bad as what he thought it would be, he was certainly willing to take the risk - but at the same time, he wasn't overly fond of the idea of being flayed alive and left for the Siberian tigers in the woods outside of Moscow.

"Yuuri, you're over thinking." Ciao Ciao muttered to him over their bowls of katsudon. Yuuri blinked out of his own head and nodded, fretting at his lower lip. A deep sigh came from the coach, and he gave a reassuring squeeze to Yuuri's shoulder. "We'll talk about it more later. 

Later, meaning outside of earshot from everyone that was trying to ignore Yuuri's odd behavior. Before Rostelecom, Yuuri had been looking forward to spending the last month or so of the Grand Prix season in Hasetsu. The first thing he had done upon arriving was take down all of the posters of Viktor. They felt like a violation of Viktor's privacy, now. He'd be in his childhood room for nearly two months before having to return to the States. It would be the longest time he'd spend at home in years, and the Final was in Nagoya. It hadn't made much sense for them to go back to Detroit just to come back and readjust to a new time zone once again, not when they had a rink that was practically private to give both Phichit and him the edge of unlimited practice and plenty of time to sleep. And then there was Japan's National competition just a couple weeks after Nagoya.

What was more, Phichit's 'future mate,' as he called Seung Gil, was going to come a few weeks early to take advantage of the same perks. Neither skater minded, preferring to compete against others when at their peak conditions anyway. And it gave Peach and Seung Gil time to share a heat and rut without having to suppress them. Needless to say, Phichit was _ecstatic_ over all these prospects. And, thankfully, was taking the attention away from Yuuri's foul mood by chattering away with his parents and Mari about making plans for Seung Gil to have a good time while in Japan.

Yuuri was blaming his attitude on jetlag, and no one was questioning him on it. Celestino had decided that Phichit did not need to know about Yuuri's encounter, but Yuuri wasn't sure he would be able to keep up the act; he was already failing miserably, after all. He had no idea how he would be able to pretend everything was fine when he was considering entering into a Bratva hideout, attempting a rescue that he'd only seen in cheesy heist movies. At least Peach would be distracted by his boyfriend. His family, on the other hand, would know very quickly that something was wrong.

Yuuri finished what he could and excused himself from the table, taking his leave into the gardens. There was a slight bite to the ocean air and he breathed it in gratefully. The chill grounded him as he looked up to the sky. There were more stars here than in Detroit, but the bright of the three-quarter moon made them fade even more than the lights from the sleepy town of Hasetsu would. As beautiful as the night was, all he wanted to do was sink to the ground and sob out all his frustrations.

Viktor's eyes, glazed and wild, so desperate, haunted him every time he closed his eyes. As he exhaled deeply he knew what his decision was. There really had been no question. He would do it. He'd go to the auction and do his best to help his hero in any way he possibly could. Viktor didn't know it, but he had done so much for Yuuri in his own darkest times as a child. What sort of person would he be if he didn't at least try to help Viktor out in his?

Wandering away from the door, he sat on a small bench amidst the cypress and bamboo, pulling out his phone with a trembling hand. Never minding the time difference, it didn't matter if it was day or night, he dialed a man he'd only ever seen from across the ice, making a mental note to thank Chris for the phone number later.

"Mr. Feltsman? It's Katsuki Yuuri… I… I have some questions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Mon cher_ \- my dear
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I am truly overwhelmed by the response this fic has received! Thank you all so much ^^ I hadn't planned on publishing the second chapter so soon, but I figured I was inspired and wanted to keep the momentum going. 
> 
> Also - it would only be early afternoon for Yakov at the time Yuuri called him. I don't think Yakov would be terribly annoyed even if it was the middle of the night, but in case any of you were wondering.
> 
> I want to make sure this fic is as complete as possible - so if there are any holes or questions you might have, pleeeeeaaaase let me know! 
> 
> Non Beta'd


	3. Playing the Hand You Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Stitch in your knitted brow_   
_And you don't know how_   
_You're gonna get it out_   
_Crushed under heavy chest_   
_Trying to catch your breath_   
_But it always beats you by a step, all right now_   
_Making the best of it_   
_Playing the hand you get_   
_Well, you're not alone in this_   
_There's hope for the hopeless"_
> 
> _~There's Hope for the Hopeless, A Fine Frenzy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
(Honestly, this entire chapter might warrant a trigger warning as it was very emotionally difficult for me to write and I have very few triggers. So it may be an emotional chapter for others. But the subject matter and basic premise of this fic is extremely dark and most definitely isn't for all readers, so I am only going to stick with more 'extreme' trigger warnings throughout this story. For this chapter, there are two.) 
> 
> First - I've marked the entire auction itself as a potential trigger as it shows the actual dealings of human trafficking (at least for this world, as I have no idea of how these things actually happen and am going by what I have seen in various media), and Yuuri is understandably emotional and distressed throughout this section. The beginning of the auction will be marked with ~*~*~ and the end with *~*~*. A summary of the auction will be provided at the end notes
> 
> Second -There is a conversation in this chapter that uses very derogatory language and attitude toward a human being, and mentions specific non-consensual sexual actions. The beginning of this conversation will be marked with ~*~*~ and will end with *~*~*. A summary of the conversation will be provided at the end notes. _If you skip this one, please do read the summary below, as it contains points important to the plot in future chapters. _
> 
> If you would like to know the summaries beforehand to see if these sections might cause you too much emotional pain, I'd suggest reading the end notes first and risk the spoilers.

Yuuri decided he didn't like Russian winters. Or rather, he didn't like being outside in a Russian winter. He had thought this before, five years prior when, unbeknownst to all that were involved in this plot now, things were set in motion at Sochi. Though, he wasn't entirely sure his shivering was from the cold this time.

_"If you're worried about showing how you feel, pretend you're performing a routine. Focus on conveying the emotion you want your audience to see." _

Yakov's voice echoed in his head. He'd had several coaching sessions about how to handle himself throughout the upcoming night; Yakov showed his infamous relentless precision even in social coaching. Yuuri had practiced, too, schooling his facial features in the mirror, making sure he knew what the muscles felt like when he achieved the nonchalance of an entitled celebrity. Just as his limbs could skate his programs without his mind, his face could now achieve a very uncharacteristic sneer of being better than anyone else. His role would be a thrill seeking figure skater that had some rather… dark proclivities.

They had opted for transparency in his identity for several reasons. He was an Olympian, after all, and the fact was if he went missing, Japan would make a fuss about finding their Gold medalist in time for PyeongChang in the coming months. It had also allowed them to make the reservation through a stroke of luck that had come from one of Yakov's contacts that had recognized Viktor even before Yuuri had received the dreadful invitation marked for Chris. The sponsor had been a guest in the box where the alpha now identified as Ivan was making contacts to set up this party, and had secured his own invitation that he'd passed to Yuuri. That sponsor's insight into the seedy underbelly of competitive sports had proven to be invaluable, though Yuuri had never spoken to him.

And that brought him to where he stood, at an abandoned taxi stand, the address from the new invitation. His hair was slicked back much like it was when he skated, and the tux Chris had shipped to him fit well, but it still made his skin itch and crawl, though again, he wasn't sure if it was the fabric or simply the situation. A heavy wool overcoat from some store that he'd never dream of setting foot in, lest his wallet break just from looking at the prices, was doing its job of keeping his body as warm as possible.

A strange calm had settled over him within the previous twenty four hours, almost a sort of resolution of whatever happened was out of his control. Though it was the exact opposite as he was packing for his trip. It was the bow tie he was carefully folding and placing in the garment bag. For whatever reason, that small scrap of fabric would not fold just right between his trembling fingers, and he broke down. Chris had received a frantic phone call with Yuuri screaming that he couldn't do it. That he was bound to mess it up, because he couldn't even fold a tie the right way, how was he supposed to infiltrate the _black market_? And how could people be so horrible as to treat others like they were a prize in a gacha machine?

Chris had let Yuuri have his frantic tantrum, allowed him to cry and scream for as long as he needed until he calmed himself down enough to hiccup a 'sorry' through the phone.

"Don't be sorry, _mon cher1 _Yuuri. We're attempting the impossible quintuple axel. It'll be a miracle if we pull it off… How do you feel now?"

Yuuri's breath was steadying and he waited for the panic to come back and grip him once again. But nothing came. He felt strangely empty of any fear, as though it had left him amidst the cries and tears. "Determined." he told Chris resolutely, nodding even though the other man couldn't see it.

"_Très bien2!_ Just remember that you'll have Ciao Ciao with you, and Yakov sent someone too. All you have to do is create an opening for Vitya to leave and then get out safely yourself."

Ciao Ciao himself was currently down the block in a parked car that Yakov had set up for his use. If they could manage it, he'd be the one taking Viktor to the next point in his journey. Yuuri had purposefully stayed ignorant of any details, in case the worst should happen and he couldn't escape. Though he thought their plan of making him appear inculpable was a good one, none of them could be completely sure. It all simply depended on how Yuuri would be able to conduct himself.

He was pulled from his thoughts as an unmarked, black luxury vehicle pulled up to the stop. The driver seemed innocuous enough, but Yuuri had a suspicion there was some sort of firearm beneath the driver's jacket. Coming around the vehicle, he held the back passenger door open for Yuuri. With a confidence he didn't entirely feel, the skater stepped forward like it was his first step onto the ice. The performance had begun.

"Good evening, Mr. Katsuki." the driver greeted him with a short bow that, had they been in Japan, would have been considered rude rather than the politeness that he was apparently trying to convey.

"Hm." Yuuri gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement, swallowing down the bile that was threatening to rise. It seemed as though his rudeness was expected, however, and the driver merely gestured for him to enter the car. Settling into his seat, he noticed a welcome basket that held champagne, canapes, crudités, some fruit and… a blindfold.

"If you please, sir." the driver told him as Yuuri raised an eyebrow at the unexpected item. Yuuri fought back a whimper and instead chuckled like it was to be expected.

"How am I supposed to enjoy the champagne if I can't see what I'm doing?" Yuuri hoped his voice conveyed the sass that he had tried to develop for that night, though he suspected it had a bitter edge to it that he wasn't intending. The driver opened his mouth to insist, but Yuuri was already reaching for the basket. He popped a grape in his mouth casually, like this sort of thing was a normal circumstance he encountered often, and then picked up the blindfold and tied it behind his ears. Suddenly, he was all-too aware of his heart pounding in his ears. "Let's go."

"Very good, sir." And Yuuri heard the car door shut with a dull thud, and within the next moment, the car was moving.

Breathing as normally as possible, Yuuri tried to fight off any thoughts of how they had already been discovered and he was on his way to his death, rather than the auction. Reminding himself that the secrecy behind the event had been there from the very beginning, and that they likely would not have been able to give this attempt without Yakov's friend explaining how these things usually went. Though the blindfold had not been mentioned.

Instead of dwelling too hard, Yuuri focused on the thought that Ciao Ciao was following at a safe distance, that even if _he _didn't know where he was, his coach did. He counted the turns, left and then left again, right, and then straight for a good while… but soon lost track of them as well as his sense of time. The drive took forever, and just when he was about to tear off the blindfold and demand to know what was taking so long, he felt them go over a bump and down an incline. It felt a lot like a parking garage entrance and they were suddenly creeping along at a much slower pace before coming to a complete stop.

"We have arrived Mr. Katsuki."

With those words, his previous irritation was engulfed with nerves once again. Pulling off the blindfold, he realized his former thought had been accurate. They were in a parking garage, though it was nicer than any other lot he had ever seen. The floors were a polished and painted gray, the walls lined with warm, neutral toned flagstone and embellished with chrome light fixtures. The vehicles that were actually parked were all high end brands that cost far more than his most lucrative sponsorship. But most importantly, there was no way to know which building he was under. Outside his window, however, he did see an elevator with a man in another impeccable suit like his chauffer wore. He was holding a tablet and was looking at the car expectantly.

The door was opened and he stepped out, ignoring the wish to have enjoy his evening that came from behind, and walked toward the elevator. He appraised the man that was guarding it, and noted the ear piece that curved around his ear and into his suit. It wasn't until he was nearly standing in front of him that he realized the guard had been appraising him too. Yuuri hoped he passed the test.

"Your name, sir?"

"Katsuki." Yuuri slid the invitation from the sponsor out of his pocket and handed it over. The guard seemed to scan the invitation for something that could only be seen under a UV light, and checked the tablet he was holding. Nodding once with satisfaction, he passed the thick paper back to Yuuri and pushed the elevator's call button.

"Enjoy your evening, Mr. Katsuki." he said as the doors opened to reveal a brightly lit space with the same coloring as the flagstone walls of the garage, and politely waved Yuuri inside the car. The man stepped inside for a brief moment to scan a key card and select the top floor of the building and then left Yuuri alone.

He fought back a snort of disgust as the parking garage disappeared from view and he was staring at his own reflection on the steel doors. It was a relief to see the expression he had so carefully practiced still in place, and he took a deep breath to steady himself further. So far, the plan seemed to be working, but he wasn't allowing himself to be hopeful just yet. Now, he needed to figure out how to get to Viktor and get them both out of there safely.

_"Keep your face neutral, act like you belong." _

Yuuri reminded himself once again of Yakov's words and stepped off the elevator into the most lavish space he had ever entered. Whatever it had been that he was expecting, he had not expected to see a brightly lit penthouse. The room he found himself in was large, couches and armchairs were scattered around in groups where people in tuxes and evening gowns were mingling. Somewhere there was piano music filtering through the air, and waiters and servers were flitting back and forth with trays of champagne and apéritifs. But before he could venture any further, there was one more obstacle to get through.

"Welcome, Mr. Katsuki. If you would come this way, please." a young woman greeted him with a nod of her head. His eyes traced to where her hand was pointing and he realized there was a coat check and, it seemed, a final security measure to pass through. Following her guiding hand, he strode over and unbuttoned his coat. The usher helped him out of it and then gave him a polite smile. "There are no electronics allowed beyond this point, sir. If you would turn off any phones, tablets, or smart devices and leave them here, it would be appreciated."

With a natural frown, Yuuri couldn't say he was terribly surprised. Chris and Yakov had both told him to expect such a rule. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he saw a text notification from Ciao Ciao. A thumbs up emoji that would look to anyone else that it was in response to Yuuri's earlier 'Landed safely' message. Celestino had been able to find a place to park nearby that would not draw suspicion. So Yuuri turned off his phone, noting the time, and handed it to her. He supposed he was lucky they hadn't made him turn it off at the pick up point, as he was transmitting his location to Celestino through the GPS feature for an extra measure of protection. It was almost seven thirty. If his coach didn't hear from him by eight thirty the next morning, the authorities would be notified.

"It's all I brought." he told the woman, and she beamed at him.

"I understand, sir. There is just one more step and you can be on your way to your evening." she said far too cheerfully as she gestured for him to walk behind a partition, blocking the view of the rest of the room. Yuuri was skeptical as he stepped behind the painted wooden barrier, and she followed. There was a small table that carried a detecting wand and she picked it up. "If you would hold out your arms, please, sir."

Doing as he was told, she waved the device over his body. When it gave no signal of any other large metal or electronic device, she patted down his pockets, sleeves and pants. The irony of giving him privacy through this security check when he was there to help someone who likely would call the basic decency of privacy a luxury was not lost on him. He took a deep breath to stave off the nausea that came with the visceral reminder of being in a very dangerous place, and it must have seemed like an impatient sigh, because the woman looked at him apologetically.

"Thank you for your patience, sir. We have you fully checked in. Please enjoy your evening." 

There was that phrase, once again. As though he would be able to enjoy any part of this, and he could not fathom the smiles and laughs that he encountered upon stepping fully into the large room. Smiles and laughs that he would have to imitate if he were to make it through the night. Trying to look mildly interested in his surroundings, rather than ubiquitously revolted, and picking up a glass of champagne to blend in further, he began to walk around the large room. But with every step, he could feel himself becoming more and more green around his cheeks.

Spread throughout the space were portraits of at least twenty different people that were to be auctioned off. Plaques with numbers identified them, rather than their names, and held information about them as if they were products in a catalogue. Their gender, subgender, age, height, weight, nationality, body-type if they were in their heat or rut that night, as well as 'specialties,' 'services,' and limits as to what the potential buyers could not do with them. It was with renewed horror that Yuuri saw one or two of them were listed to be constantly kept in their heat or rut state. Yuuri supposed all of the information was provided by the monsters that had put these people in their position. As he walked, searching for Viktor's portrait and the number he would have to bid on, he began to realize that the pictures were repeating the same numbers and people here and there, and the poses and states of dress and undress differed on each of them. All of them, however, were meant to entice just the sort of clientele he expected, and Yuuri found himself desperately wishing he could help every last one of them.

He wanted to know their names, their stories, so he could give all the information to the authorities. Perhaps Interpol would be a good place to start. And even though he was fighting a stomach that was rolling like ocean waves each time he looked at a new portrait, he found himself studying them carefully, assigning names to their faces so he could remember them better later. Then, he finally came upon the first picture of Viktor, number 042, and stifled a gasp.

_"When you find Vitya's lot, don't show any excitement. It'll draw attention from other potential bidders." _

Trying to ignore the provocative pose he had likely been forced into, Yuuri studied his expression. It was much the same as when they had met nearly two months prior. This was nothing like the vibrant young man that had posed for skating posters, where his eyes were once bright, they were now glazed over and vacant, his infamous heart-shaped smile that had once been reserved for the ice and his fans was now wan and thin. He was only partially draped in a white sheet, as though the photographer had tried to make it artistic - ribs visible, muscle mass from years of physical training gone, and his shoulders jutted out from his narrow neck like the top plank of a wooden telephone pole.

Trying to ignore the same eyes that had haunted his nightmares for the past seven weeks, he turned his attention to the plaque.

_Lot 042_

_Gender: Male_

_Subgender: Omega_

_Age: 28_

_Height: 180cm_

_Weight: 65 kg_

_Nationality: Russian_

_Body Type: Mesomorph_

Yuuri quickly skipped over the services as he would not need, nor wanted, to know them and jumped to the limits list and the question he'd been wondering since he'd seen others' heat and rut statuses.

_Limits: Permanent scarring, disfigurement, branding, marking, bonding, broken bones, or damage requiring surgical/long term repair (Non-negotiable)_

_Heat Status: Constant_

Bile rose up in Yuuri's throat, and he fought it back down with a desperate sip of his champagne. He just couldn't look anymore. Viktor being in constant heat explained how he had acted at Rostelecom, as well as the vacant expression in the portrait. It also posed a problem for Viktor in his escaping, and both Chris and Yakov had dismissed Yuuri's earlier theory that when he'd first met with Viktor that he was in heat. They had both insisted that he was a beta, and had not considered this to be a potential issue. Likely, they had said, Viktor had been drugged that night to keep him compliant. As he turned away from the portrait, cursing the one, glaring, oversight that could derail their entire plan, he locked eyes with another attendee. A podium mate several times over was there with his dark eyebrows raised at him, the man's pretty new wife on his arm, and his other hand already holding a bidding fan.

Skater Jean-Jaques Leroy was there to buy.

* * *

Yuuri had collected and registered his bidding fan and settled into his seat, uncomfortably aware of JJ's eyes constantly on him from behind. And furthermore, even when JJ had to look away for one reason or another, it seemed Isabella's gaze replaced her husband's. JJ hadn't approached him, nor had he attempted to make contact either. Yakov had warned him that he might recognize a few people, sponsors and the like, since it had turned out Ivan had been fishing for potential buyers at ice skating events for months even before he'd brought out Viktor at Rostelecom. But never in a million years would Yuuri have guessed that JJ and Isabella would play party to something so vile. In his head he was reevaluating every conversation, every encounter, he'd had with both of them.

Blood seething beneath his skin, Yuuri's thoughts ran rampant. Sure, JJ had been cocky and annoying sometimes, but Yuuri had never thought him to be a bad _person_, and Isabella had always been kind to him. She had even once given him her water bottle when he'd been in the midst of a panic attack and Celestino had been busy with Phichit on the ice, and had sat with him until he'd calmed himself down. It was heart-breaking. It was disgusting. Worse even still, Yuuri would never be able to make eye contact with them again, as they had to be thinking that he was the same as them.

**~*~*~**

So wrapped up in his mental anguish was he, that he missed the first person that had been up for sale. It wasn't until the auctioneer had slammed his gavel against his podium, declaring them sold, that Yuuri pulled himself together. Desperately, he reached for Yakov's advice.

_"Bid on a couple other people, otherwise they might suspect something is up. But don't win them!"_

Right. He was pretending to be just as evil as the rest of the crowd that was sitting around him. Buyers, sellers, and their partners, if they had them, made up the audience. As the wooden twang of the gavel quickly faded, there was polite applause, and Yuuri tapped his hands together as quietly as he could. Then it was on to the next person, their images that had been displayed around the common area popping up in a slideshow on a large screen to the side of the auctioneer. He waited for a couple more people to pass by before acting on Yakov's counsel, silently reciting the nicknames he'd given them and their facial features, and mentally repeating miserable apologies to the first one he'd missed. Watching and preparing drafts of what he would tell Interpol, he finally raised his numbered card.

'I am so sorry, Ena-san3.' he thought as the auctioneer acknowledged his bid.

He brought his hand up a couple more times before appearing to decide the amount was too high, and then stilled politely. Following suit of all the other attendees, he clapped when a winner was designated, and forced a smile when someone let out a cheer of victory.

It seemed to go on forever, and he repeated his pattern. Cementing nicknames, committing features to memory, bidding a few times and then conceding, not daring to look over his shoulder at JJ and Isabella. He would not have been able to bear it had he known on whom they were trying to bid. Yuuri genuinely thought he was going mad. The whole thing didn't seem real. It was as if he was in a living nightmare from which he would never wake. There were so many, far too many, people being treated like stock animals and he realized he'd been right on what he had told Chris on the phone before. _He couldn't do this. _

His heart thundered erratically in his chest. The trickle of sweat rolling down his back itched so badly it burned. His breath was all but gone and his chest was restricting. The lights were getting dimmer, though he was sure his eyes were open wide. The roaring in his ears sounded like a plane engine was right next to him and…

"Lot 042 is up next." The auctioneer's dully registered through it all, and Yuuri's eyes shot up to the screen. Viktor's face, changed though it was, cut sharply through all else. Viktor was why he was here. No matter what his panicked body and mind were telling him, he could do this, if only because he _had_ to.

_"When bidding on Vitya…" _Yakov's voice came to him once again, and he sat up straighter, as if the coach were sitting and speaking right next to him. "_Let a few bids go by at first, as if you're trying to decide if you want him." _

Yuuri obeyed, letting the starting price double before he raised his card. The number quickly rose into the mid six-digit range of Russian rubles before other bidders started to taper and fade.

_"Don't drive the bids up too high. Pace yourself." _

Yuuri seemed to forget that piece of advice, as the number was rising higher and higher. How high, he couldn't be exactly sure, as he wasn't paying attention to price. Every time he raised his hand, the auctioneer would only have time to point at him before calling the next spike.

_"You don't want to show your desperation." _

But Yuuri _was_ getting desperate. He'd never forgive himself, and he was sure Chris and Yakov wouldn't either, if he lost this opportunity. He tried to let a few more bids go by before he raised his number again, his mouth dry and tacky, bile rising from the stone that had wedged into his gut. Raising his hand, he thought he caught a tremble, but quickly stilled it. Finally, it seemed as though only one other person behind him was countering his offers.

It happened again and again, until finally Yuuri glanced over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions that, yes, it was JJ who was fighting him for Viktor. Gritting his teeth, he fixed his eyes forward again, raising his card with a flick of his wrist over and over and over.

***~*~***

The gavel slammed and Viktor was declared sold. For a split second, Yuuri's stomach dropped to the floor, thinking he hadn't raised his card in time to oppose JJ's most recent offer, but then he recognized his own card number being announced and then the amount. He had bought one night with Viktor for three and one quarter million rubles. It was almost triple what the next highest amount had been so far. 

Yuuri couldn't help the relieved smile that split his face, and then immediately felt immense guilt over it. While the grin stemmed from the fact he had succeeded in one more step toward Viktor's freedom, there was absolutely no reason for him to be _happy_ it. And then, he reminded himself once again, that he wasn't supposed to be his usual self. That the caricature Yuuri he was playing would, indeed, be boastful over his so-called prize. So he fixed the smile in place before it could fade into the absolute abhorrence he had for himself in that moment.

Rising to his feet, he followed what the other winners had done, walking down the split aisle toward the back of the crowd. Ignoring the enthusiastic clapping, whistles and jeers that surmounted around him for the high amount he had just declared for Viktor. As he passed JJ and Isabella, he wasn't surprised to see both of them frowning and glaring at him. Yuuri then realized that there was a svelte man waiting for him, clapping and laughing harder than anyone else, at the end of the aisle.

It was easy to recognize Ivan after seeing him so many times over the security feed. Placing one hand in his pocket so he could clench his fist, nails nearly breaking the skin of his palm, he clasped Ivan's now outstretched hand with his other one and firmly shook it. Ivan was still laughing as he threw an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, pounding his back enthusiastically.

**~*~*~**

"Either you are the horniest bastard in the world, or you are completely insane!" Ivan roared as he guided Yuuri away from the crowd that was now standing to enjoy the rest of the party for the evening. Viktor, being the headlining appearance, had been the last person sold.

Yuuri only gave a noncommittal, hollow, chuckle as he followed Ivan through a side door and down a hallway. Seeing more of the place, Yuuri could now tell this was someone's actual residence. The décor was still as lavish as it had been in the big room they'd just left, but it was gentler somehow. Soft throws and pillows were on a chaise, and as they passed by an open door, Yuuri could see a kitchen bustling with caterers. If there was one thing Yuuri could recognize, it was the difference between a commercial kitchen and a home kitchen, as Yu-topia had both. How someone could ever host a slave auction within their own home, Yuuri would never understand. As Ivan led him into a private office, Yuuri's confusion only got worse. And, once again, he was fighting back vomit.

There was another portrait of Viktor. However, this one had no covering for him of which to speak. It was clearly an intimate boudoir photo, and obviously taken years ago when he had been far healthier. This wasn't just 'someone's' home, it was Viktor's prison. Yuuri had time to notice Viktor's gaze being clear, almost loving, in the picture before averting his eyes.This, unfortunately, Ivan noticed. 

"Does it bother you?" he asked, thin lips curling into a sneer as he gestured with a broad sweep of his hand toward the large frame that was the focal point of the room. "Surely you knew that he's my mate before coming here." 

'Of course it does…' Yuuri thought to himself before scrambling for an answer aloud, hoping he sounded dismissive, "No. I assumed that he belonged to someone."

"I must say, you really stole the show out there Skater Katsuki." Ivan seemed to buy into his answer, practically pushing Yuuri into a chair in front of a large desk. "Over three million rubles… how much is it where you're from?"

"Around five point five million yen." Actually saying it, the realization of the heavy burden he'd placed on Chris and Yakov hit him. All because he had been fighting against JJ. It was exponentially more than what they'd discussed was a possibility, but he couldn't go back on it now. He then vowed he would do anything and everything, for the rest of his life if he had to, in order to pay them back. They had told him that money wasn't an issue, but surely that amount had to sting their wallets at the very least a little.

Ivan whistled lowly and laughed again, "Why in God's name would you pay that much to fuck an ice skater? I'm sure you have plenty of options at work, yes?"

Yuuri shrugged. "Call it the thrill?"

"Hmm… if that were true, then any of the other lots would have done just as well, for a much lower price. Going against Leroy, I kind of get, because you faced off with him in the Olympics a few years ago, but even then…" Ivan settled himself behind the desk and gave Yuuri a piercing gaze that made him fidget, even as he slid a filled glass of champagne across the wood. There was no way he'd be able to make up a blithe excuse and wave this off. Yakov had told him to not get desperate, and he had. Yakov had told him not to drive the price up too high, and he had. If his mistakes during the actual bidding process cost them this chance…

"Um… actually, I've always been a fan of Viktor Nikiforov since I was a kid. He's the one that inspired me to start skating professionally in the first place." Yuuri could feel his cheeks turning red, and took the champagne to have something for his hands to do. "So… I guess you could say this is a life-long fantasy?"

Ivan blinked in surprise and Yuuri thought for sure he was about to be escorted out, before Ivan burst out in raucous laughter. "You have got to be _shitting_ me!"

"Um… No?" Yuuri tried to shrug nonchalantly again, but was sure he just seemed like an embarrassed school child. This only made Ivan laugh harder.

"Ah, it's just as well." Ivan's boisterous cackling fading into chuckling as he wiped tears from his eyes. "I only have one year left with the little slut. He turns thirty next year, and no one will want to fuck him after that. He'll be too old. In fact, it's already becoming difficult to find buyers for him, so you'll forgive me if I was confused about how much you committed."

Yuuri's displeasure at Ivan's words showed on his face. Ivan guffawed indulgently as though they had simply disagreed on their preference for the weather, and pulled a tablet out from a drawer.

  
"I suppose to someone like you that's always been a fan, his age wouldn't matter? Don't worry. I'll probably put him up for sale next year, if it makes you feel any better. How about I make sure you receive an invitation to that auction, and if you win him, you can live out your little fanboy fantasies 'til your heart is content." Ivan continued as he started tapping away on the tablet's screen. This was it. This was his chance to ask about the next part of the plan.

"Speaking of fantasies…" Yuuri began slowly, swirling his champagne in his glass, and eyeing Ivan. At his tone, the other man looked up at him with a frown. Nearly faltering, Yuuri reminded himself as to why Yakov and Chris had insisted on him asking this next question. It was for his own safety. If the answer was no, Yuuri would do it anyway and beg for forgiveness, feigning that he could not help himself. If it was yes, then the story Yuuri would be offering the next morning would be far more plausible. "Another reason I am here is that I have certain… proclivities toward somnophilia. It is difficult to find a partner that would allow it, and even harder to find one that wouldn't sell a scandal to the press. I would like to perform this with Viktor, and I did not see this on his list of limits or services. I understand it is a… shall we say, unique request." 

"What's the drug?" Ivan asked immediately.

"It's my own prescription. Trazodone. I use it when at competitions to help adjust to jetlag. The bottle is in my coat pocket at the coat check. I'd be glad to hand it over for your inspection."

Yuuri could see Ivan mulling the question over in his head, as if he was weighing Yuuri's final bid against JJ's, and considering if drugging his mate was a risk he was willing to take. After what seemed an eternity, Ivan broke out into a leering sneer, "You're one of the sick fucks, Katsuki." he chuckled, "Alright. Let me inspect the pill and make a phone call to my physician. If it all checks out, I'll allow it, if only because you've been such a good customer and I would love to see you back" 

'As if that will ever happen…' Yuuri couldn't help thinking, even as he smiled back at Ivan's answer.

Ivan made a quick phone call to the coat check for them to bring the contents of Yuuri's coat, and then he handed Yuuri the tablet. There was a bank transfer form with the agreed upon amount already filled in. All Yuuri needed to do was input the account information and the transaction would be complete. He was entering in the numbers he'd memorized carefully when the woman who had checked him in came into the office and handed Ivan two prescription bottles and then left just as quickly. One bottle was empty and unmarked 

"A sign of good faith." Yuuri explained, before Ivan could ask. "I thought you might not want me to take my entire prescription in with me. One dose should be enough."

Ivan nodded appreciatively and busied himself with the other promised phone call, this one in Russian as he opened Yuuri's prescription and examined the contents. This part, Yuuri was not worried over. It had been his own idea originally, after all, and the prescription was one he used responsibly for years to treat his own anxiety at night, just as he'd told Ivan. He decided to not let it bother him that he'd offered far more truth to Ivan than he had originally intended in regards to how much he had hero-worshipped Viktor in the past. At least for now. He'd think about that, and the subsequent anxiety attack that was sure to come, later.

Placing the tablet with the input account numbers on the desk for Ivan's inspection. Politely sipping on the champagne, he sat back and waited patiently. The phone call ended, a single pill was dropped into the empty pill bottle, and Ivan picked up the tablet. An affirmative chime signaled the transaction was complete, Yakov and Chris significantly lighter a small fortune, and it was done.

"Let's go collect your prize, shall we?" Ivan asked him as he handed him the requested pill bottle.

***~*~***

Yuuri nodded, no longer trusting himself to speak, and followed Ivan back out into the hallway and up a flight of stairs. The home was extremely large, though not large enough to house all of the people that had been listed at the auction. Yuuri supposed that because Ivan was hosting, he had the ability to have Viktor under a closer watch, the others must have been escorted elsewhere for the night. He wasn't sure if this fact spelled luck or misfortune for their plan. On the more fortunate side, Viktor would probably know his surroundings much better and might know the security weaknesses. On the other, it meant Ivan would likely be extremely close by for the entire duration of the night. But before Yuuri could ruminate on this further, Ivan had stopped in front of a pair of French doors.

"There is a phone inside that connects only to my line. You will be locked in until morning, so if there is anything you need, just pick it up and I will come by shortly. There are no cameras, for your privacy, but there are microphones. Though I doubt much will be picked up, except for maybe you, eh?" Ivan rapped on the door to signal their arrival, chortling sickly at his own joke. Yuuri offered a small 'heh' in response.

"Part of it is the quiet." Yuuri said simply, hoping it was enough to deter anyone listening in as to what would most definitely _not_ be happening behind the doors. "You will notify whoever is on the other side of those mics?"

"Of course. Discretion is the number one rule for these events." Ivan took a key and unlocked the door. He swung it open and gestured for Yuuri to go inside. "Enjoy your evening!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations: 
> 
> 1\. Mon cher - my dear  
2\. Très bien - very good  
3\. Ena-san - a Japanese name most commonly meaning 'gift from God', but the way Yuuri spelled it in his head (because Japanese names can change meanings based on the characters used to write it) meant 'eternal peace'  
4\. 3,250,000 rubles - This equals approximately $50,700 USD
> 
> ### Trigger Warnings Summary:
> 
> First - Yuuri is at first so distraught about JJ's presence that he misses the first person auctioned. Throughout the rest of it, Yakov's previous advice runs through Yuuri's head. Yuuri does his best to commit to memory all of the people that he sees being sold, as the pictures described earlier in the chapter are displayed. In order to fit in, Yakov had told Yuuri to bid on a few people other than Viktor, and so he does feeling extremely sorry and regretful about having to do so. As the auction goes on, Yuuri begins to have a panic attack and its effects are described. It is seeing Viktor's face on the screen that pulls him out of it, reminded of what he was there to do. He does his best to play it naturally, but becomes more desperate as the bidding war for the night with Viktor goes on. Eventually, it is just him and JJ that are bidding.
> 
> Second - Yuuri has a conversation with Ivan, (who uses very derogatory language to describe our dear Vitya) and asks why Yuuri had been willing to spend so much money on one night with Viktor. Yuuri decides to tell the half-truth that he did it because he's always been a huge fan of Viktor since he was a kid and that Viktor is the reason he started skating in the first place, and this amuses Ivan. He states Viktor is getting to old for auctions because he is almost 29, and that nights with Viktor can only last for another year at most. Yuuri's expression slips and he gives away his disgust momentarily, but Ivan takes it to mean that he's upset he won't be able to have many nights with Viktor. Ivan then goes on to tell Yuuri that once Viktor turns 30, he will sell him in another auction, (and subsequently will seek out new victims), and suggests to Yuuri to come buy Viktor permanently the following year if he is that interested in him. Yuuri "confesses" a false fantasy about somnophilia, and asks Ivan if he can drug Viktor for the night. Ivan checks out the pills Yuuri had stashed in his coat pocket (which is his own prescription to help him through night time anxiety attacks), and agrees to let Yuuri put Viktor to sleep for their "night together."
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write for several reasons. But first I have to say this: 
> 
> iAmSoSorryJJFansPleaseDontHateMeiWillMakeItUpToYouiPromise!
> 
> But now onto the more serious discussion about the subject matter. I get a bit real here, so if a conversation about the contents of this chapter will be harmful to you, please skip the rest of this note.
> 
> I, in no way, have any wish to glorify or portray human trafficking or modern slavery in a positive light. I know there are those that will argue that just by writing this story that it plays into just that. But please allow me to respectfully disagree. 
> 
> I truly did my best to treat the subject with respect, but I'll admit freely that I did not do a lot of research into how it actually happens. Everything in this story all comes from my own interpretation of what I have seen done in other works of fiction and the few documentaries/news articles I have seen. 
> 
> While I did not start this work as a campaign of awareness for human trafficking and modern slavery, if it does happen to bring these senseless tragedies to people's attention, then I consider that to be a more positive thing than negative. I feel it is only by being aware of our surroundings and what happens in the world that change can take place. 
> 
> If you are wanting to learn more for yourself on these subjects, or wish to do what you can to help, a good place to start are the organizations that are working hard to bring liberation and support to those that are affected by these senseless tragedies. And rather than plug one single organization and push my own opinions on you, I'd prefer to give you a starting point to enable you to do your own research and make your own choices to the level of which you are most comfortable. So here is a list of [7 nonprofit organizations](https://www.salesforce.org/7-nonprofits-leading-fight-human-trafficking/) that are working hard to help: 
> 
> Now all of that being said, thank you so much for your comments, kudos and bookmarks. It truly means a lot to me that people are reading and actually liking what they're seeing. It makes me so happy and in turn motivates me to really push myself to do better for you. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you.


	4. The Anthems of Rape Culture Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Never feel too good in crowds_   
_With folks around, when they're playing_   
_The anthems of rape culture loud_   
_Crude and proud creatures baying_   
_All I've ever done is hide_   
_From our times when you're near me_   
_Honey, when you kill the lights, and kiss my eyes_   
_I feel like a person for a moment of my life_
> 
> _~ To Be Alone, Hozier_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
Viktor is a bit irrational and emotional here. There is a description of a fit of hysterics in which he hurts himself, but it's not too detailed. He references his past in his thoughts, but nothing specific is described, just that it happened. Because these sections are vague and are one-liners worked into the body of the text, I didn't feel them severe enough to block out like the previous chapter. If you disagree, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to mark it more thoroughly.

Ivan had just left his bedroom, and Viktor promptly strode into the en suite and threw the faucet to the shower. Bending over the toilet, he shoved his fingers into the back of his throat until he was gagging and retching up the pills his alpha had just made him take. Trembling from the physical exertion, he counted the three capsules that still held their shape floating in the water below him, and he sighed with relief. It was auction night. And Viktor would be damned if he was going to miss this opportunity.

Seven weeks, nearly to the day, had passed since he'd sought out Yuuri Katsuki. And to be honest, Viktor had hated himself for every moment since. He knew that the hormones that Ivan fed him daily kept him easy to manipulate, kept his mind fuzzy and not working properly, but he refused to allow himself to hide behind that excuse. The earnest worry that Yuuri had displayed when Viktor had barreled into him haunted him several times daily. In those few precious moments of being away from the alpha that kept him imprisoned, the alpha he had once loved dearly, he had blown his first real chance at escape.

If he had just _stayed_ with Yuuri. Had the wherewithal to explain that he was being kept against his will, that he was drugged, he wouldn’t have had to come back to the house that he and Ivan shared. Surely there could have been another way. But no, he had stupidly begged some nonsense about buying him, or something. He couldn't quite remember the conversation they'd had. But those large, earnest, _honest_, cinnamon eyes… those he remembered vividly.

He didn't recall making his way back to Ivan, didn't remember how he must have been whisked away from the competition, nor the beating that must have ensued from being gone from Ivan's side for too long. Viktor's next memory was waking up in his bed, bruises along his back and backside bemoaning, and the realization that he had completely missed his chance. He had fucked up, and it was completely his fault.

That thought alone had driven him into complete hysterics, sobbing and screaming until he was dry heaving, head pounding. And he hadn't been able to stop. He didn't know how long he had howled and shrieked, pulling at his own hair and scratching at his face and arms. He only knew that Ivan had been forced to sedate him to get him to calm down. When he had awoken again, there was another beating for his tantrum. 

After that, Viktor had been forced to resign himself to the hope that he wasn't remembering Yuuri's expression falsely. That the skater had gotten in touch with Chris, that his overpowering instinct to reach out to Katsuki hadn't been wrong. The hope was slim, at best, but it was there. And it was more than he'd had for a long time, and so he clung to it desperately. 

It would be hours before he'd know if his hope would come to fruition. He would simply have to wait for the time when whatever buyer had won him for the evening would step through his locked bedroom doors. Ivan had left him to prepare himself, the way he had been trained to do. Before taking the pills that would simulate a full heat-state, Viktor had been debating on how he wanted to approach the night ahead. If he took the pills, and help was indeed on the way, he would be in a state that would make it nearly impossible to act with a clear head. But if he was wrong, if that hope was more dangerous than what he could even currently comprehend, then he would have to fake it.

It wasn't the actual faking a heat that he was dreading, in moments of daring he'd done it before, successfully. But those lucid moments had come at a high cost. The memories of those he'd been with were viscerally clear, and then turned into night terrors that would last for months before he was able to get a decent night of sleep. The hope had won out in the end, however, and now he was simply stuck in the void of time to see if this gamble would turn out lucky.

But then, another sneaky, hopeful phrase creeped its way into the forefront. "Hope for the best, plan for the worst." Chris had once told that to him, some sort of English phrase he'd picked up.

He busied himself preparing for the worst first. It was a ritual that required him to pay careful attention to his appearance, and would take up most of his thoughts so he wasn't making the potential let down worse with fantasies of a rescue. Adjusting the shower to a humane temperature, he flushed the evidence of his rebelling down and then proceeded to scrub his skin pink. Then came the hair treatment, and shaving so his body was swimmer smooth, and another complete scrub down.

Taking a minute to enjoy the comforting warmth of the water washing over him, he allowed himself to wonder if Chris was on his way. When his fingers started to become far too pruned than appropriate, he turned off the shower and stepped out to continue the routine.

Carefully styling his hair, he realized that Ivan would likely want him to trim it soon after this event. It had grown out a couple inches since the last time he'd had it done, and it was starting to bunch around his ears in a way that annoyed him. But then the, almost unwelcome, reminder came that he might soon be able to grow it out and style it any way he wished. Perhaps he'd grow it long again like he had when he was in Juniors. 

That thought was quashed almost as soon as it had come. While he'd liked how he looked having the long hair, it had been far too high maintenance, even for him. Maybe just long enough to pull up out of his face when it was getting annoying. 

Makeup and hair done, he sent back out into his room and pulled a bottle of water from the fully stocked fridge that was kept there for these nights. He knew the kitchen would be on standby for anything the buyer would want, but most of the time they did not want any interruption. And so, there was champagne, several vintages of red and white wine, fine bottles of vodka, and plenty of luxury hor d'oeuvres ready for any sort of palette. Viktor was only allowed water until something else was offered to him directly, if the guest elected to feed him, and so he took advantage.

Next was the conundrum of what to wear. All he wanted to do was curl up in a favorite pair of pajamas for the rest of the night and read, somewhere far away from there and with a curly haired beast curled at his feet. But that was simply not going to happen one way or the other. He continued in his decision to prepare for the worst, and dressed himself in the skimpy lingerie that Ivan had selected for him. Pulling his terry cloth robe over his shoulders, he gave a sigh. He didn't know how much longer he had to wait, and the lack of things to do was dangerous to say the least.

Sitting on the bed, he found his gaze wandering to the armoire where he stashed a box of his only allowed precious possessions. Wondering if he would be able to take any of them if, and it was a monumental _if, _he was to be leaving everything behind that night, he tried to put the box from his mind. Well, he thought to himself, he certainly had planned as best he could for the worst. Perhaps he could allow himself a tiny bit of leeway to enact the first part of the phrase. 

He was at the armoire before he'd even made the conscious decision, and was sifting through the assortment of baubles, searching for the one thing he absolutely had to take with him. It wasn't much to look at, he knew. It was merely a scrap of fabric that had brown poodles in various poses with a dusting of pink clouds on it. He'd sewn it into a sort of makeshift handkerchief, and since he'd had it, he had never slept a night without it. Outwardly, he knew this sort of security item was childish, but inwardly, rubbing its softness between his fingers, or even touching it to his cheek had brought him far more comfort than most items that were found in his surroundings

Folding it carefully, he placed it in a coat pocket. The coat he would wear if the 'best' were to happen. Fighting back tears at the idea of the best, lest he spoil his perfect eyeliner, he clamped his teeth on his tongue to get himself to stop. The next thing, he supposed, would be clothes. He selected a thick pair of fleece lined sweatpants and a long sleeved black tee. He grabbed the coat and some shoes, and stowed it all away in the bathroom under the sink. It was at that moment, as he was folding the coat as small as it could go, a sharp rap at his door echoed through the bedroom.

Shoving the items into the cupboard and closing it as quietly as he could, he stood in the bathroom doorway. Muffled voices and Ivan's unmistakable laugh came through the other door and Viktor felt his heart begin to sink. Surely Chris wouldn't be making Ivan laugh. 

The door opened, and Viktor absently fussed over his robe, making sure it was straight, and then realized with horror it was the wrong one. He was supposed to be wearing the flimsy sheer one, the one that would offer a look to the buyer at what they had purchased before the night would commence. But that scrap of fabric was clear across the room in the armoire, he didn't have time to get it and pull it on before the door would open. And sure enough, the door swung, and with it opening Viktor felt his soul crush. All hope banished itself with the sharp thump of the door on the jam.

The memory of Yuuri's eyes being honest and good was clearly just a trick of his own mind, for that was exactly who stepped into his room. Yuuri Katsuki was the buyer and hadn't passed his message along to Chris.

Ivan gave him a pointed stare, clearly telling him that his appearance was unacceptable before the door shut. As Viktor heard the lock engage, and nearly choked. Before tears could betray him, he turned his head away from Yuuri, who was staring at him.

"Good evening, sir." Viktor made himself say demurely. "I hope you've enjoyed your evening so far."

The sound that Yuuri made was almost strangled, but Viktor couldn't bring himself to look at him just yet. He neither knew nor cared about what had the intruder upset. If it was the robe, then so be it. He was upset too. 

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" he continued, giving an empty gesture toward the fridge and making his way toward it to give himself a moment to blink the unshed tears dry.

"No, thank you." the voice that replied seemed forced.

Viktor squeezed his eyes shut for a second and then pasted on his old media smile - the one he used when he was tired, or emotionally drained, but still needed to be camera perfect. Turning, he cocked his head to the side, cutely.

"What can I do for you this evening, sir?" But Yuuri wasn't looking at him, to his relief. Though, the way he was looking around the bedroom was indeed curious. Taking a glance at Viktor, Yuuri took an uneasy step, but not toward him. It was toward a sconce on the wall. When they did make eye contact, Viktor couldn't read his expression. If anything, he looked worried.

"_Mic?_" Yuuri mouthed, pointing to the light fixture. Inwardly, Viktor sighed. Of course he wanted a private talk before they got started. He pointed toward the bathroom, but didn't make a move. Yuuri bobbed his head once in understanding.

"A shower first, I think…" Yuuri said aloud, answering his previous question and started toward the bathroom door. When Viktor still didn't move, the younger one peered over his shoulder. "If you would join me, please?"

Still smiling, but cringing with every step he took, Viktor followed. Yuuri shut the door behind them and went to turn on the shower. When Viktor moved to take off his light blue covering, Yuuri stopped him with a gesture of holding up his palm, peering at him curiously. 

"You're not in heat." Yuuri observed simply and Viktor froze in pulling the cloth over his shoulders again. "That's really good…" 

'Shit! Shit, shit, shitshitshit.' Was all his mind could think. Throat closing up, he just stared at Yuuri's shoulder, barely registering that he was digging into his pocket until he pulled out a pill bottle, and Viktor's eyes went wide. A hormone pill? Was the state Ivan had him in almost all the time not enough for this man?

"Please… please no…" His lips were moving, begging, before he could stop the words, but at Yuuri's frown that read as displeasure with him, he clammed his mouth shut.

"Oh! No… this isn't… I mean…" Yuuri took a step back, expression turning to clarity then surprise. Another step backward and his legs met the toilet and he plopped down on it. Eyes darted down to the ground as though he was piecing some things together. "Oh my god… I'm sorry… I'm not…"

Viktor stared at the fumbling man. Fumes of anger suddenly billowed into his chest. Viktor hadn't risked everything to simply end up here, _again._ If he had played it smarter, he wouldn't have got himself into this phenomenally large mess. If Yuuri had been as honorable as he had seemed, had pretended, then Chris would be here. Even if Viktor had made a mistake, there was nothing forgivable about the fact that the man was here, had used the invitation to leverage his own interests.

"Why are _you_ here?" Viktor spat out bitterly through his teeth. "I thought… Maybe the whole damned sport is corrupt now…The invitation was supposed to be for Chris, not you… and now…"

Yuuri's entire body recoiled in a flinch. Viktor took a shaky breath, composing himself immediately as he ran his hand through his hair nervously. Angering a patron simply wasn't done. It was a mistake he'd only made once, and the consequences had been… well, he would simply have to deal with the punishment later. Perhaps if he smoothed things over, gave the best service he ever had, Ivan would show him some sort of mercy.

Looking back toward Yuuri, who was hanging his head in shame, Viktor felt a twinge of satisfaction. But this wouldn't do. He had to make this right. He'd have to do everything he could, maybe even offer things he didn't normally do unless they were asked for. Whatever dignity he had left wasn't worth keeping in the face of Ivan's wrath. Forcing his expression and voice to soften, he took a trembling step forward.

"I'm sorry. I've disappointed you…" Viktor tentatively reached out and stroked Yuuri's hair, but snatched his hand back as Yuuri jerked his head up to look at him. He was surprised to see his eyes swimming with tears and took another step back, hitting the wall behind him.

"No!" Yuuri wheezed insistently, "No, Viktor… you … you could never disappoint me. I'm just doing this all wrong, and I am so sorry."

Viktor blinked at him, his mouth falling open slightly. "Wh-what did you just say?"

"I'm sorry."

"No… not that… before that." 

"You couldn't disappoint me, and I’m doing this wrong?"

Viktor shook his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he covered his mouth and an involuntary sob escaped his throat. Taking a deep breath, he whispered shakily. "B-before th-that. Please…"

Yuuri stared at him. "You mean… 'no, Viktor?'"

Viktor broke. That had been too much. The entire evening, the last several weeks, the hope he'd been trying to stifle but had burned bright anyway, only to be smashed to jagged pieces and decimate. His own emotionally charged outburst that was sure to earn him more than just a few bruises, the trust he'd placed in a complete stranger to do the right thing, only to be betrayed… and yet. Yet, here Yuuri was, saying his actual name. Not omega, not slut, or whore, or skater, or 'little star'. In spite of everything, he _still wanted_ to trust Yuuri, his instincts were telling him to and it was pointless, they were lying to him. His entire head swam with far too many thoughts, confused more than he ever had been in his life.

Knees giving out, he fell down the wall into a heap on the floor. A fist was shoved into his mouth and his other hand gripped his eyes as sobs wracked through him. Curling in on himself, he bit into the terry cloth covering his knees and clenched his eyes shut. Arms going protectively over his head and his hands gripping his hair. He trembled before the man who held his entire fate in the palm of his hand. He was so scared. 

There was the sound of a step, and a shadow of Yuuri kneeling in front of him. Then a gentle voice asked, "Can I hold your hand?"

Viktor didn't want him to, but somewhere in the back of his head a voice told him it would be the first step to digging himself out of the hole into which he'd so spectacularly thrown himself. Not quite being able to voice the consent Yuuri was offering him, he only nodded his affirmation.

But rather than trying to lace their fingers together in some sort of intimate initiation into further physical contact, Yuuri slid his palm against his, grasping the whole of his hand. The touch strong, firm, and determined. Blinking, Viktor peeked up, falling even deeper into his confusion until his watery gaze met the cinnamon eyes he thought he had falsely remembered. It was nearly the same expression seven weeks ago. Worry, caring, genuineness, but now it also held determination. Their hands linked together wasn't a touch of faux intimacy. It was camaraderie. As if, skater to skater, they were in this together. 

"Viktor…" Yuuri let out a quick sigh, blinking away his tears. "I need to apologize for a lot. I'm sorry I'm not Chris. I'm sorry I scared you into thinking I bought you for… for less than honorable intentions. I'm sorry for… for messing this up… but I’m not here to s-s-sleep with you." His eyes clenched shut as if the thought of spending the night together was revolting and Viktor was nearly indignant, but he stayed quiet. That dreaded hope was starting to twinge in his chest once again, and he was trying to extinguish that flame as quickly as it had come. "Chris couldn't come. W-we thought Ivan would recognize him…" Viktor started to fidget, his insides squirming as the flame of hope started to burn brighter. He couldn't breathe. "So… so Yakov and Chris sent me instead. They gave me money to get the chance to talk with you, to see if we could get you out. I have a car waiting for you if we can figure out a way to let you escape."

"Y-yakov? _And_ Chris?" The muscles in Viktor's hand started working and he was suddenly grasping Yuuri's hand like it was the last lifeline he'd ever be cast. "They sent you? They know I'm here?"

"Yes!" Yuuri looked relieved that his words were sinking in, and he continued, his voice now more reflecting the confidence in how their hands gripped each other tight. "They're so worried about you. I… We… we thought if it was me coming in instead of a complete stranger, you'd know that… that I wasn't… wasn't like the _others_. We thought, since you found me at the Cup, that a familiar face would be better. We never thought that you might assume otherwise. I would have explained better before… but I thought we were both just playing along for the mics."

It was as if Yuuri's words took the last bit of sanity Viktor had left. There was a long pause as they stared at one another, and then Viktor _giggled._ And, oh god, he hadn't done that in so long. Not genuinely, anyway. The sound was foreign to him and he slapped his other hand over his mouth in shock over the outburst, and then burst out into teary giggles once again.

"_Vi-viktoru_?" Yuuri's voice lapsed into his Japanese accent, thoroughly baffled. Viktor didn't know how, but the way his name sounded in Japanese was even more lovely than how Yuuri had said it before. Fighting to regain control of himself, he struggled to stifle his wildly inappropriate laughter.

"I'm sorry… I just…" Viktor snorted into his palm and took a deep breath, still grinning. "You know that stupid American phrase? 'When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me?' It just popped into my head and…" he broke off into another fit of giggles. "Chris _loved_ that phrase, picked it up from some competition, and I never understood it."

Yuuri's face was blank, staring at him as though he had truly gone completely mad. Viktor could tell he was fighting his own grin, the urge to smile dampened by the gravity of their situation. The way he was still laughing breathlessly, however, won out and Yuuri chuckled. It was the second most beautiful sound he'd heard that night, after Yuuri saying his name. They watched each other smile for a moment before the sound of the shower pounding the tile and the way they were still gripping each other's hand brought them both to their senses.

"I…" Viktor began hesitantly, his smile turning sad and shy, "I have a lot to apologize for too."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Yuuri scowled at him, though he didn't seem angry at Viktor. "Let's just… let's get you out of here, ne?" 

Viktor couldn't speak, a fresh wave of emotion forcing tears to his eyes again, and so he just nodded as he breathed deep. Yuuri waited patiently as he willed himself to calm. Viktor's eyes wandered, trying to compose his thoughts, to quell the raging waves of hope and fear into something more manageable so that he could focus. Once his gaze found the pill bottle that had somehow made its way to the sink's countertop, his cerulean eyes narrowed. Suspicion flared, though he didn't mean for it to be present.

"Then… what's the pill for?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. Paranoia of Yuuri being a plant by Ivan invaded his mind, and it was as if Yuuri could sense it. His grip on his hand tightened before the erratic thoughts could truly take root.

"That's for me." he said firmly. "It's a sleeping pill and it's for me. But before we get to that part… Mr. Nikiforov, I was-"

"Viktor." the older man corrected, finally tearing his stare from the pill bottle and back to Yuuri's face, which was now twisting into stupefaction. "I… Just… Please. Viktor."

"Viktor." Yuuri amended, and then continued, "I wasn't counting on being locked in together. Plus the fact that it seems like this is… _his _house?" Viktor nodded that the assumption was correct, "Do… I don't know how we're going to get you out of here. Is there a fire escape at one of these windows, or do you know how to get out of the room?"

Sucking his lower lip between his teeth and chewing on it, thinking. "I've broken out before. Don't forget, it's my house too… kind of. I can open the door, and probably sneak to the stairs." 

The force of Yuuri's exhalation was as if he'd been holding his breath since entering Viktor's room, and his lips turned upward with relief. "Good. Then… um. In order to make sure that Ivan isn't going to come after both of us, or… or any of his connections… you're going to sneak out. I don't know if you know my coach, Celestino Cialdini… but he's waiting with a car. I don't know where he's supposed to take you, but Yakov was the one that arranged all of this. He'll keep you safe."

"I met him a long time ago, on the circuit…" Viktor bobbed his head slowly, "Does he still have that stupid pony-tail?" 

Yuuri chuckled, "I'm pretty sure he was born with it."

"What car is he driving?"

"I don't know the model, but it's a beat up, blue little thing, it looked like it was from the Soviet Era."

They shared another smile and then Viktor frowned as he realized that Yuuri had only been talking of _him_ escaping. "But what about you? You're coming with me, right?"

"That's what the sleeping pill is for." Yuuri shook his head and Viktor's chest tightened with dread, "I'm going to take it, and then I need you to… t-to hit me, to make it look like you escaped on your own." 

"No! Vanya will _kill_ you!" Viktor's voice was strangled with panic, and his fist shot out and clenched the lapels of Yuuri's jacket. "I can't just leave you here! I won't."

"I have family… I can't have the Bratva after them. And we're banking on the fact that I'm w-well known to keep him from, um…"

"He's not part of the Bratva! Not the way you think. They helped him fund these stupid auctions and use him to sell their own people, but he's not under their protection or anything… He's just a front man that got in too deep."

"That's even better." Yuuri insisted, gently untangling Viktor's fist from his jacket and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I can tell him that Celestino knows where I am, and if I don't return then he'll have the Japanese consulate after him. The Olympics are in two months, and I won Gold at the last games. It will be more dangerous for him to hurt me. But if we both leave…" he cleared his throat and changed tactics, "Yakov, Chris and Ciao Ciao wanted this to look like it was on your own, and I agree. And if you make it look good… or rather… bad… um, if you h-hit me hard enough, Ivan will be more likely to believe it."

"But… isn't taking drugs dangerous?" Viktor grasped at straws to try and stop this stupid plan, "I mean, do you even know how it will work, how you'll react to it? What if you don't fall asleep?"

"It's my prescription. I need a sleep aid sometimes. I'll definitely fall asleep." 

"Oh, damn you…" Viktor huffed and brought both his hands to his eyes to stop further tears from falling. Yuuri moved sharply and there was a rattle that brought his head back up. The pill bottle was open and Yuuri was swallowing. "No!" Viktor scrambled to his feet and held Yuuri's face with a bruising grip, trying to force him toward the toilet. "Throw it up! Please!" 

"Now it's not even a question." Yuuri planted his feet, firmly pulled Viktor's hands off him and gave him a wan smile. "We have about fifteen minutes before I won't be able to walk straight. I'm going to make it look like our champagne glasses were switched and get you some clothes." 

Before Yuuri's hand could turn the doorknob to the bathroom, he spoke, defeated, "I have clothes under the sink."

"Okay." And then Yuuri stepped out to give him privacy. 

Fear gripped Viktor's stomach and chest, not only for what would happen to Yuuri, but for what he also had to do in order to get to Celestino. Whatever he did, he mustn't get caught, not when Yuuri was risking so much. They were on the top floor. It would be a miracle if he could get to the street without being seen.

He pulled his clothing on with shaking hands, and splashed cold water over his face to try and clear his head. Mapping out his own plan of how to break through the lock as quietly as possible and then to make his way through the penthouse to the fire escape stairs. The problem was that those were by the elevator. He could only hope that he'd be able to slip through the party goers as unseen as possible, and if worst came, he would simply run. He would make it. It wasn't a matter of choice or ability, it was just what had to be done.

Viktor was patting his face dry, wiping off his tear-smeared eyeliner, when Yuuri came back into the bathroom. 

"Ready?" Yuuri asked, his voice tinged with nerves. Viktor nodded at first and then shook his head.

"I don't want to hit you."

"I know… I'm sorry. Just…" Yuuri sighed and leaned up against the counter, loosening his bow-tie. "You were pretty angry earlier, right? See if you can tap into that. Get mad at me. Or pretend I'm someone else that you're mad at. It might make it easier."

Humming thoughtfully in response, Viktor finished drying his hands on the towel and set it down. Breathing deep, he began trying to summon up whatever anger he could. It wasn't working very well.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Yuuri's voice came tentative and small. Looking toward him, Viktor blinked expectantly, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yeah." Viktor agreed, swallowing thickly. Pushing himself off the counter, he turned squarely to face the man he was about to hurt. The man who was doing everything to see him to safety. "I can do that."

"Thank you…" Yuuri replied quietly, and then clenched his bowtie in his fist and stood. "Okay. I’m ready."

Clenching his jaw, Viktor curled his hand into a fist. Looking right into those cinnamon eyes, he found his resolve. Yuuri had clearly been through hell to get them to this point, surely he could do his part and take them the rest of the way.

"Be careful when you wake up… Don't let him intimidate you. Talk about a refund, or pressing charges, or something. That'll get him to shut up."

"That's a good idea. I'll be careful. You be careful too."

"I will. And Yuuri?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to get this chapter up a day or two after I posted the last, but then I caught a nasty cold and whatever I wrote during the fever came out very, very weird when reading with a clear head, so I had to scrap it. I truly didn't mean such a long cliffhanger. I want some closure too! And I'm already working on the next part. Hopefully it won't be longer than a day or two to update, but next up is Yuuri's POV - so who knows if he'll cooperate? Thank you for your patience, and please let me know what you think! 
> 
> I've already implied this within the last few chapters, and in the corresponding tag, but the way the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics work here is different than in traditional Omegaverse stories. I'm working on a world building bit that will help clarify in case I can't work all of it into the actual plot line itself. I hope it will answer any questions you might have - and if you have them, please ask in the comments! It will likely be the same world in any future Omegaverse stories I'll write, as I have put waaaaaay too much effort into it to merely scrap it after this one. ^^; 
> 
> Also - I'm always on the lookout for new music and songs. So if there happen to be any lyrics that you think might fit within this story, please let me know! Who knows? I might use them in the chapter summaries. I enjoy reader/writer interaction and will for sure credit if I use someone's suggestion. <3


	5. Leave All That's Broke Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Run for your life my love,_   
_Run and you don't give up_   
_With all that you are_   
_And all that you want_   
_Run for your life right now_   
_And if you don't know how_   
_Come back a few_   
_Take all that's true_   
_And leave all that's broke behind_   
_Run for your life_
> 
> _~Run For Your Life, The Fray_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None for this chapter.

It really wasn't a very good lock. Viktor knew this from sneaking out late at night whilst Ivan slept so he could steal a bit of milk or bread or whatever food he thought would go unnoticed to be missing. Feeling the latch give, he pocketed the wires fashioned from paperclips and took a shaky breath. Glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping Yuuri, the man's brow was furrowed even in sleep, he winced seeing the sprouting bruises. His left eye was far worse than his right, his lip split and still weeping a few drops of blood. Flexing his sore hand, Viktor debated for a split second before rushing back over to the bed.

Placing a quick kiss above the worst bruise, he took a breath and caught his scent. He even smelled of cinnamon bark and deep wooded scent that would, in any other circumstance, be comforting. "Be safe, Yuuri…" he whimpered so softly he could barely hear himself. Before he could lose his nerve, he dashed back to the door. Silently turning the handle, he peeked through a small crack. He didn't really expect there to be anyone there. Ivan liked to stay at his own party well into the night, and he hated anyone wandering into their personal quarters. As he thought, the coast was clear, and he shut the door quietly behind him, the click of the catch barely sounding. Keeping his steps quick and light, he hurried through the hall and down the back staircase.

Music, laughter and the rumble of conversations met his ear as he descended, and he paused at the corner. Knots turned in his stomach and he held his breath as he chanced a quick look. Ivan's office door was shut tight. He flinched as a server came out of the kitchen and bustled through the very door he needed to reach, ducking back onto the stair.

He gasped and brought both of his hands to his lips, in a steeple, forcing his breathing to become regular. Considering his clothes, he knew he didn't look dressed for the party, especially with an overcoat that wasn't allowed through the security check. What was more, his features were extremely notable. It wasn't the first time he cursed his silvery hair, if he were more ordinary looking, he likely wouldn't even be in this situation.

"_What the eyes fear, the hands do1…_" he muttered to himself. Drawing his hand into his pocket, his thin fingers curled around the poodle handkerchief. Deciding that acting as though he belonged would be the best course of action, most people would notice someone sneaking, but someone that held themselves with confidence could pass through most anything. He was about to step out from the corner hiding him when he heard the door on the far side of the hall open.

Flinging himself back into the stairs, he fell backwards. He almost slid down them as his hands came into contact with a sharp edge of a step, biting back a grunt from the impact, and hoping the thud signaling him being there had gone unnoticed. Precariously perched, he didn't dare to move his foot for better purchase. Breath held, he listened for the footsteps that were alarmingly getting closer.

His throat went dry as the steady gait of the newcomer drew near, a large shadow of a figure coming into view. The muscles of his body began to tremble as he couldn't bring himself to look up. If it were Ivan, he'd already be snarling and lashing out at him. He barely had time to register that the man's feet were clad in shiny dress shoes before one of them lifted to the bottom stair. Then all at once, he was being lifted by his arms and he found himself looking into dark blue eyes.

The man's expression was surprised, and the corners of his mouth were turned upward in a genuine quirk of a smile.

"Good." Was all he said with an approving nod, and Viktor had no idea what that meant. He choked through a gasp as his feet were placed steadily on the step above the other. Not knowing what to say, who this person was, other than him being an attendee, judging by his tuxedo. He was tall, tall enough that Viktor was only barely gazing down at him. "Don't take the elevator. Take the stairs. Give me two minutes and then go."

"Wh-what?" Viktor hissed his question, but the man was already hurrying back down the hall with quick, long strides. Trying to piece together what he had meant by giving him two minutes, it was too slowly that he realized that he might have been another person with Yuuri, someone that was trying to help him. Though, he figured that Yuuri might have mentioned if there was another planted buyer there. But then he wondered if simply waiting was just giving the man time to fetch Ivan, keeping him there with a promise of something that would allow his escape, and ice filled his stomach. He couldn't just wait around.

Taking a few jogging steps through the hallway, he nearly tripped again when he heard a loud roar on the other side of the door he needed to get through.

"MOLCHALIN!" the bellowing voice echoed along the walls, and Viktor whimpered involuntarily. Even if it was his own mated last name that was being called, he assumed it was being used to summon Ivan's attention. He had to hurry.

Ducking quickly by the open kitchen door, he could hear the party coming to a standstill before gasps and jeering laughs filled the air. Someone was shouting again, but all he could make out was something about the auction being rigged. Perhaps this was for what he was supposed to wait the two minutes. Opening the door a crack, he could see the party goers all crowding around something that he couldn't see, and he could hear Ivan's voice angrily retaliating. Then the unmistakable sound of a fist meeting flesh, he should know as he'd just done it himself, and a flurry of security running toward the crowd, shoving people out of the way.

Eyes wide, he looked toward the elevator and the door that led to the escape stairs. The entryway was empty. His insides jolted as his feet moved before he even knew what he was doing, striding quickly toward the exit. Ivan roared something in a fury and he glanced over his shoulder - his mate was still blocked by the crowd, but even so, he quickened his steps.

Reaching for the door handle, he whined softly when it wouldn't budge.

"_Net_, _net, net, net2_…" he whispered, trying the handle again. Of course only Ivan or his security would have the key. Desperately, he shoved on the handle, feeling it give slightly before it jammed again. He tried again, putting all his weight into pushing the handle down, jerking it against itself, and muttering prayers and pleas. A crack of metal on metal sounded as he felt it break and give. A breathless 'ha' of relief escaped him as he threw the door open and began to run.

They were twenty-eight floors up, and he knew the top ten used the private elevator as their main source of entry. The floors below eighteen all used a communal one that Ivan nor any of his associates would really be watching. Even still, he wasn't sure if he wanted to chance using it. The man from before, the one he assumed had caused whatever fight Ivan had ended up in, had told him to use the stairs. He didn't know how long he would have before Ivan would notice he was missing. Yuuri and him and hoped that it wouldn't be until morning, but then he couldn't remember if he'd heard the emergency door shut. Certainly not about to turn back around to check, he skipped as many stairs as he could on his bad ankle, it twinging as his weight fell on it repeatedly.

His mad dash caught up to him about seven floors down, his head swimming and dizzy from going around and around, the sight of the same staircase stretching out over and over before him causing vertigo. It didn't seem like he was getting anywhere, save for the descending numbers notating which floor he was passing. But he kept going. He couldn't stop. It wasn't until he noticed the number '14' on an engraved placard that he began to slow down, taking the steps one at a time until he reached the twelfth floor. It was here he decided he needed to take the communal elevator that the rest of the residents in the high rise would use. He wouldn't look so out of place there.

Opening up the door onto a hallway lined with apartment doors and numbers, he gave himself a moment to wipe the sweat beading off his brow before entering the empty space. He still didn't trust exiting through the lobby where the doormen would know his face, but he could take the service elevator where mail and deliveries came through. These were luxury apartments, ones that he would have perhaps bought himself had he continued in his skating career, and if he'd found a mate that wasn't a terror from hell. Vaguely, he wondered if the people behind the numbered doors knew what was going on, just a few floors above them, right under their safe noses. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he bit it back anyway. It wasn't fair of him to expect any lay person to know of what went on behind the closed doors of the elite business men who paid over the top prices for privacy.

Pushing the button to call the service elevator, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, rolling his sore ankle as he waited. The cheerful chime of it opening seemed to be laughing at his flight as he slammed the button to take him to the first floor. Taking out his handkerchief he pressed it to his nose, panting. Almost there, and then it was looking for a beat up, blue Soviet car.

This elevator, he realized, was much slower than the ones the residents used. It descended steadily, the groaning of the cables uninsulated from the car, and he impatiently tapped his fingers against the railing he was leaning against. His mind on Yuuri in the gilded tower above, rather than what he had to do next.

"Please keep him safe…" he prayed quietly, desperately, to any deity that might be listening. Not much of a religious man himself, he figured it couldn't hurt to enlist any extra help that may or may not be out there. If Yuuri was a believer, so much the better, he hoped his plea would reach those gods if they existed.

The elevator groaned to a stop and the doors opened on yet another hallway. This time, however, the service exit was in sight. It renewed his energy and he broke into a full sprint. Shoving the door open he stepped out into the freezing night.

The air burned his lungs as he took a deep breath. He knew better than to start crying, the tears would freeze before they even reached partway down his cheeks. The sidewalk was empty, and the street was quiet. The glow of the streetlamps was almost inviting, had they not cast sinister shadows upon every wall. Snow silently fell from the sky, lightly dusting the cars that were parked along side the road, and making his footsteps crunch beneath him.

He didn't know where to go. The apartment building was large, taking up most of the block on its own, and he didn't think it would be the best idea to go toward the main entrance. Doormen were among those that might alert Ivan prematurely, unknowingly or not, if he called to ask if they had seen him. But Yuuri hadn't told him where Celestino might be waiting. It didn't seem as though he knew himself, anyway.

With a shiver, he decided to walk along the block, behind the building, and hope that Celestino knew to not watch the front entrance, or at least was parked somewhere along where he'd be able to see him from more than one angle. He supposed if it came to the worst, he could find an all night diner or bar, and beg to use a phone, if Yakov still had the same number, and he could remember it properly.

As he walked hurriedly along, cursing himself for not choosing a thicker coat, or thinking of gloves, he busied his mind in trying to remember his coach's old phone number. The night was the sort of quiet that only winter could bring, the clouds and snow muffling any sound in the city that would normally signal its being alive. It wasn't until a car was almost next to him that he realized it was there. _And it was blue. _

Watching, wide eyed, as the car pulled into an empty parking spot, he noted it certainly fit Yuuri's description, and when a large man with a pony-tail that would cause a horse envy stepped out of the driver side door and looked at him, his heart leapt. He almost slipped on a patch of ice as he jogged over, embarrassing for a former skater, and Celestino was giving him a wide smile.

"You made it!" the relief was etched in Celestino's voice and face, and Viktor couldn't help but return a tired, wan smile.

"I-" he began but then couldn't finish, tears threatening to spill over. Celestino shook his head and came around the car to open the door for him.

"Hurry. We don't want to hang around too long."

Almost diving into the passenger seat, Celestino was settling in the other seat as he was fastening his own safety belt. The door was barely shut before the car was squealing and swaying into the road, away from Ivan. And away from Yuuri.

"Here." Celestino handed him a woolen hat that had been resting on the center console, "Cover up your hair. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us. And I need to make sure no one is trailing. Your hair will be a dead giveaway."

"… Would you be able to lose them in this thing if there are people following us?"

Celestino gave a loud, short bark of laughter. "Don't discount this old thing. The owner keeps it in good condition. Though, yeah, you're right, it doesn't look like much."

"Alright." Viktor pulled the hat over his head, tucking his fringe into the edges. The scent of it was oddly calming, cinnamon and wood, and he knew exactly who was letting him borrow it. "Celestino?"

"Yes?" the coach asked as he blinkered his way onto a main road and into traffic, checking the mirrors.

"Will… Do you think Yuuri will be okay?"

Celestino's smile was tight as he stared forward at the road. "I really hope so. But really, he's got a good head. I wouldn’t have let him do it if I didn't think he'd be able to make it out alright."

Viktor hummed skeptically as he remembered how much Yuuri had fumbled at the beginning of their encounter, and flushed with shame at how awful he had treated him. "I wasn't very nice to him. I thought that he was… _really_ there."

"You mean as an actual buyer?"

"_Da3_." Viktor's voice was small and apologetic, and he stared at his bruising hand. Celestino glanced over and noticed him looking at his hand.

Celestino sniffed but didn't seem to be angry with him. "He won't let that bother him. If anything, he'll just worry about scaring you. By your hand, though, it looks like you did what he asked?"

"_Da._ I didn't want to though." Viktor hurried to add. "I… it's… I didn't want to leave him behind, but he took a sleeping pill before I could stop him and…"

"That's a good thing." Celestino reassured him, and reached into his winter coat pocket. He brought out an instant ice packet, and snapped it with his broad hand, shaking it to make it activate. "Put this on your hand. Was there any other trouble? Do you know if Ivan suspected?"

"I don't know for sure. But I don't think so. There was a man who caught me," Viktor explained as he took the ice pack, wincing as he placed it on his hand. Celestino stiffened at his words, and Viktor shook his head, "I don't think he told Vanya! He told me to take the stairs and to give him two minutes… and when I left, there was a fight going on in the party. I think he caused it to distract Vanya, and the others."

"Did you know him?"

"No."

Celestino was quiet, a frown forming as he checked and rechecked the mirrors. "What else?"

Viktor told him all that he had seen, trying to put it all together in his own head as he spoke, but neither of them felt any better about it as he finished his story. Celestino asked more about how the encounter with Yuuri went, and Viktor choked through it, wiping his eyes as he explained how it had, at first, nearly gone terribly wrong. The coach had a few more questions about how Yuuri acted, what his expressions were like, his body language, and Viktor answered to the best of his ability; though, he admitted, he hadn't been paying very close attention to what Yuuri was doing.

As he finished his story, silence stretched between them, and Viktor pulled out the cloth from his pocket and wiped his eyes before fiddling with it between his fingers. He stretched his hand and then was thrown into the car door as Celestino took a sharp turn onto a highway. The car shook with protest as they sped up, and Viktor clenched his hands on his knees. When he drove before, his passengers knew it would be a white knuckle ride, but it was nothing compared to how Celestino was weaving in and out of the few cars that were puttering along at a safer pace in the snow.

"Where did you learn to drive?" He demanded as they passed another car who blared their horn and offered a rude hand gesture at them.

"Italy. The land of sports cars." Celestino boasted proudly.

"I thought that was Germany!"

"I'll pretend you didn't say that."

Viktor's shoulders tensed as they fishtailed through a patch of ice, but Celestino handled it well and they were back on a straight line within a second. The Italian was driving furiously, and Viktor assumed it wasn't only because he enjoyed driving fast, so he said nothing else about it. Instead, he decided to change the subject.

"Where are you taking me? Are we going to St. Petersburg?"

"No. We're taking you out of the country as fast as possible, but I don't know where. Right now we're on our way to see the Plisetsky's. Do you remember the kid, Yuri? Yakov said you'd met him before."

'Plisetsky'… the name rung a bell, but his memory was terrible in the best of times. The way Celestino had said 'kid' led him to believe that Viktor might have never even met him at all, and perhaps Yakov was mistaken.

"I don't remember him. Who is he?"

"He's one of Yakov's skaters. He's young, only sixteen. This was his second year in the Senior bracket. He took gold at the Grand Prix a few days ago."

"And Yuuri?"

"Took silver."

Viktor smiled softly at that, wishing he could have watched it. Maybe he could find a video of it later when he arrived… wherever he was being sent. He then frowned as he began to wonder again about how the evening had gone. Yuuri had said he hadn't known where Celestino was going to take him, and now the Italian admitted he didn't know where he'd be going after they met up with the Plisetsky's.

"Why all the secrecy?" he asked, and then added, "I don't want to seem ungrateful, because I am, but… it's worrying not knowing what's going to happen next."

For the first time since he'd handed him the ice pack, Celestino looked at him and clapped his hand on his shoulder. He supposed it was supposed to be comforting, the way he squeezed, but it felt odd to be touched. He thought back to how Yuuri had held his hand, his warmth and quiet courage, and nearly started crying again.

"Yakov and Chris were the ones that set this whole thing up." the coach began to explain. "None of us knew what we were going to encounter tonight. Everyone was worried that we're going up against the Bratva. So in case any of us were compromised at any point, we wouldn't know what the next step beyond our own task was. 'Hope for the best, plan for the worst.'"

"That sounds like Chris." And Celestino barked a forced laugh, nodding. But Viktor continued before Celestino could say anything more, "But Vanya isn't in the Bratva, I don't think. He's just a business man. The Bratva use him as a cover… but that's all. He always threatened me to not mess anything up for him, because he'd turn me over to them if I did. Said it would cost him more than I was worth if I caused him any trouble."

The sharp hiss that Celestino emitted told him he was thinking of Yuuri. Viktor wasn't sure how long they had been driving, or how long it had taken him to get out of the apartments, but he was sure it had been at least an hour since he'd left Yuuri sleeping and bruised. He wondered if his absence had been discovered yet, and he hoped not. He didn't miss how Celestino checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls or notifications from Yuuri.

"It was a good plan." Viktor offered the small reassurance. "I didn't want to do it, but Yuuri was right. The Bratva wouldn't want a missing or injured Olympian on their hands. Especially one from a foreign country."

"You were an Olympian." Celestino muttered. And Viktor flinched.

"But I was… was dating Vanya of my own will." he said quietly, trying to not think of the details of years before, or how he had broken his ankle, "And I was injured."

Celestino shook his head, as if shaking off his own morbid thoughts and stretched his neck until it cracked. "I'll go to Mass twice a week for the rest of my life if it means you both are safe." he muttered, more to himself than to Viktor.

There was silence between them again, and Viktor looked out the window. As if a divine symbol, they were crossing Moskva River, and the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour was glowing like a beacon on the other side. He couldn't help the quiet scoff under his breath, even as he offered up another silent prayer. It was funny, he couldn't remember the last time he'd prayed or even gave divine providence any sort of thought, and here he was, praying harder than he ever had in his life.

He considered what he had to offer. Supposing that he and Yuuri did come out of this alright, he figured going to church would be a small price to pay. But he didn't believe, so that gesture seemed hollow. What he could do, however, was do anything and everything to make sure Yuuri was alright. If Ivan kept Yuuri, Viktor knew he would go right back to him if it meant Yuuri would be released. Somehow, though, he doubted it would work out that way.

It seemed to take forever for them to reach their destination, especially now that the conversation had left them to their own thoughts. The clock on the dashboard signaled it was two-thirty in the morning, and Viktor could feel the adrenaline that had got him to this point fading, leaving him aching and tired in his bones. He'd forgotten to take the ice pack off his hand, and he shivered as he removed it and placed it in a cup holder, massaging the blood through the bruises gently.

Scooting down in his seat, his knees bumping the dash, he watched the city fade by through the window. There weren't any landmarks he recognized anymore, and it seemed they were coming to residential areas. Neighborhoods would pop up only to be swallowed again by hundreds of trees, and the street lights were becoming fewer and far between.

Finally, though, they pulled off the highway and started making their way through suburban roads, potholes littering the ground and forcing him to sit up straight so they didn't jolt his back. The houses were small, and humble, but well kept. Each one silent and dark, with only their porch lights on to signal any sort of life.

When they turned into a gravel driveway, he stiffened and looked at the house. It was like the others, small and well kept. Only there were lights on in the first story windows, offering a warm and welcoming glow. Whomever these Plisetsky's were, they were waiting for them.

With his good hand, he opened the door and followed Celestino toward the front stoop. The door slammed open, making Viktor jump and nearly bolt back to the car.

"Where the hell have you been, Ciao Ciao?" a voice shouted before a blond head popped out into the cold. "Get the fuck inside!"

Viktor stood rooted to the ground, staring. The head floating in the entryway belonged to a kid that was… tiny. How so much anger could simply explode from something so small, he didn't know. It wasn't until Celestino's overly large hand clapped his shoulder, laughing, that he began to walk toward the small angry Russian.

"Don't worry. Yuri's always like that."

"I'm always like _what?_"

"Yura, quit scaring everyone." Came a more level voice and another boy's face came into view. This one more serious, a leather jacket framing his shoulders. "The last thing we need is the neighbors calling the police."

The small blond scowled but stopped yelling. "Just get inside…"

They entered and a wonderful smell of tea and food made his mouth water. It was instantly hot and he was removing his hat and unbuttoning his coat before he even realized what he was doing. He knelt down to undo his boots, wet from the piling snow, and slowly registered that the two boys were staring at him.

"_Shit. It really is you._" The blond muttered in Russian. Viktor removed his shoes and stood, offering a tired smile.

"_Zdravstvuyte.4_" He said, clutching Yuuri's hat in his hands awkwardly. Celestino was also removing his shoes, a second later, clearly not accustomed to Russian customs. Viktor took off his coat and the older boy took it, hanging it up on a coat stand next to the door. Without having any other frame of reference for the young boy, Viktor tried his best to place him, but came up blank. "_Ah, congratulations on your gold at the Grand Prix_."

Yuri only scoffed and crossed his arms, "_As if I'd let that pig take another one from me._"

"Yura!" The older one chided and Yuri looked properly chastised. Viktor didn't know who 'that pig' was, but he could only assume it might have been Yuuri. He frowned slightly at the insult, but didn't pry.

"Well, come in. _Deda's5_ made pirozhki." he muttered, switching to English and led them to the small kitchen. There were two chairs squeezed into one side of the table, that Yuri and the other boy took, and Yuri pointed to the chair next to him. "Sit there. I gotta go get my phone."

"_Spasibo6_." Viktor told him as the young boy scurried out of the kitchen, and took the seat he was told. Celestino followed and plopped heavily into the one next to him, and smiled at the darker boy that remained, still standing and waiting for Yuri.

"Altin, have you met Nikiforov?" Celestino asked him, and the boy shook his head once for 'no'.

"It's nice to meet you." Viktor said, standing slightly to offer his hand. "Mr. Altin?"

"Otabek Altin. But just Otabek is fine." he corrected and shook Viktor's hand firmly.

"He's a fellow skater, from Kazakhstan. Took fourth at the GPF this year." Celestino explained and Viktor smiled.

"Congratulations Otabek." Viktor replied settling into his seat. He could hear thundering steps clamoring down stairs from the front room and an irritated voice speaking in Russian.

_"How the hell would I know that? He just got here._" Yuri was saying into his phone as he entered the dining room again. Giving a dramatic roll of his eyes, he shoved the phone in front of Viktor unceremoniously. "_He wants to talk to you._"

"_He?_" Viktor blinked in confusion.

"_Yakov._" Yuri supplied with a shrug, and Viktor's eyes went wide as he took the phone.

"Nikiforov, why don't you take that in the other room?" Celestino suggested mildly.

Viktor nodded and left the table, going to the front room where he'd left his boots. There was a fire going in the pot-belly fireplace in the corner, and he settled himself onto the couch near it. His hand shook as he lifted the phone to his ear.

"_Y-yanya?_" he asked quietly, almost not daring to believe he was about to talk to the man who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

"_Vitya!_" came the familiar gruff voice, sounding a bit more tinny over the line. Viktor choked out a sob and bent his face into his knees, shaking as he cried. "_Are you alright? What happened?_"

It was a moment or two before Viktor could speak, gasping for air as he tried to register that this was actually happening. He was in a traditional Russian home, he was warm, he was safe, and he was talking to his _coach_. The entire night faded away, and all he could think about was wanting to see Yakov's face, in person. "_I-I'm fine, Yanya. Yuuri got me out._"

He could hear Yakov's sharp intake of breath, the one he'd heard when one of his skaters fell out of an axel during a performance. It was so familiar, so normal. And he couldn't help but let out a soft, breathy laugh through his tears. Sitting up, he curled his feet onto the couch cushion, quite forgetting he was a guest. And then, he remembered precisely why this conversation was anything but normal.

"_But Yuuri is still there, Yanya. I'm so worried for him. Do you really think he can get away?_"

"_One step at a time, Vitya. Don't make an elephant out of a fly.7_"

"_I'm not!_" Viktor insisted, and then mumbled, "_But it's not like this is a 'fly' of a situation… this is definitely more of an elephant." _

But Yakov continued. "_And don't discount Yuuri Katsuki. He helped to get you out, didn't he?_"

Viktor absently reached into his pocket to find his poodle handkerchief, and remembered it was in his coat. Crossing the room to fetch it, he gave a few deep breaths before he could respond to his coach's question.

"_He did. But it doesn't mean I'm not worried._" He continued, pulling the cloth out and tucking it into his hand. Yakov sighed on the other end.

"_So am I. But there's nothing to be done but wait for now. Keep your worries close, but your common sense closer._" Yakov told him. "_And tell me what happened tonight._"

Viktor took a deep breath and recounted the night's events in as much detail as he could, curling himself back up on the couch, fiddling with the handkerchief between both his hands, his shoulder cradling the phone to his ear. He had a feeling this would not be the last time he told this story, and the thought made him wince, wondering if those that heard it would think less of him for how he'd treated Yuuri.

Yakov gave no judgement, however, and merely listened, giving a grunt at the pauses to indicate he was still there. As he finished with the drive with Celestino, Yakov was quiet for a moment.

"_I'm proud of you, Vitya._" he said finally, an edge of emotion to his voice that Viktor had never heard before. "_You did good, my boy._"

That started up another well of tears, but Viktor held them tight. "_I missed you, Yanya._"

"_I did too__._" Yakov returned gruffly, and Viktor smiled. "_Now I can get Lilia off my back. She's been calling me all night asking if I heard from you._"

Viktor gave a hollow laugh, and thought of the people he'd left behind in St. Petersburg. The severe ballet teacher wasn't someone he worked with very closely, but she had never been unkind to him. Just terribly, traditionally Russian and brusque, much like her ex-husband. Then there was Georgi, and the other coaches and skaters that shared the rink. But there was one he was wondering about, selfishly, he thought, above all else.

"_I have a question…_" Viktor began slowly, trying to decide if he truly wanted the answer or not.

"_What is it?_" Yakov asked, uncharacteristically patient. It was at that moment, Yuri came into the room holding a plate of several pirozhki and a cup of hot tea with a spoon of raspberry jam. He stood before Viktor, who placed his feet back on the floor with an apologetic wince, to which Yuri rolled his eyes. Viktor hesitated before taking the tea and one of the steaming hot buns. He'd hoped that Yuri would retreat back to the kitchen, but instead, the teen slumped onto the couch next to him, plate perched on his knee as he began to munch on his own. So much for privacy.

"_What happened to Makkachin?_" Viktor asked finally, and Yuri peered up at him. To his surprise, and slight dismay, Yakov burst out laughing, nearly making him drop his tea.

"_Yakov!_" Viktor pouted back through the phone, scowling, which seemed to only make Yakov laugh harder.

"_Just tell him how the damn dog is, Yakov!_" Yuri snapped from beside him, and Viktor jumped at the outburst.

"_Yurachka! Stop eavesdropping!_" A stern voice came quietly from the doorway, and Viktor turned to see an older gentleman, for that was the only way he could describe the man with a scarf and driver's cap, popping his head through the door and frowning. "_Leave him to his talk, he'll talk to you when he's done._"

Yuri scowled and muttered unintelligibly as he stood, but he left the pirozhki behind. He popped over to the front door and grabbed a pair of shoes and hurried back to the dining room. Viktor returned to his phone call, smiling slightly at how familial the interactions were here, even if he was a stranger. Yakov wouldn't be laughing if the news were bad, and Yuri had said how the dog _is_, not was.

"_She is fine, Vitya. Lilia took her in and she spends the days lounging in Lilia's studio on an over-stuffed pillow. We know she misses you, though. She still goes by your locker when she comes to the rink and sniffs around._"

Viktor didn't know whether to laugh, or cry some more, but he was grinning in spite of himself as he imagined his beloved pup endearing herself to all of Lilia's students.

"_Now we can talk more about Makkachin and everything else later. For now, you need to get ready to go._"

Viktor sighed, he had almost forgotten that this was not the last stop for him that night, and that he wasn't going home to St. Petersburg. "_Where am I going? Why can't I come home?_"

"_Switzerland. I want you out of the country where Ivan can't get to you easily. I don't know when your flight is, I left that to Yurachka and his grandfather. But Chris will be waiting for you._"

It was a mixed bag of emotions, thinking that his travel arrangements had been taken care of by the angry teen in the other room, and the fact that he'd be on his way to see his best friend. The grin from news of Makkachin spread, though, and he nodded. If Yakov trusted the boy enough, then it would be good enough for him, and Switzerland wasn't a terribly long flight from Moscow. He'd made the trip years before, after nationals, to spend his birthday and New Year's with his friend.

"_Thank you, Yanya. For everything._"

"_Just get there and call me when you get settled._" Yakov deflected the gratitude roughly. The time for emotional conversation was over. "_And go talk to Yura. He's been impatient to see you again._"

"_Again?_"

"_I told him you might not remember. Go talk to him about it. I have things to take care of here._"

"_Da. Goodnight._"

Yakov's grunt was all he got in reply and he reluctantly pressed the button to end the call. Putting his handkerchief in his pocket, he gathered his tea and food and made his way back into the dining room. Yuri and Otabek were sitting there talking quietly with the old man he'd caught a glimpse of earlier, but one was missing.

"_Where's Celestino?_" he asked them, finding no reason to switch to English when all of them could understand each other in their native tongue.

"_He went back into the city to wait for Yuuri. He'll text us if he hears anything._" Yuri explained around a mouthful of fried dough. Viktor's chest tightened and he sat down in the chair that was between Yuri and the elder gentleman. "_I thought you'd want to say bye, but he said Yakov was more important, so he went out the back."_

"_I didn't get to thank him._" Viktor said sadly as he stirred his cooling tea. He hadn't actually eaten any of the food that was offered yet, and it smelled wonderful - but it just didn't feel right to eat not knowing what was happening elsewhere.

"_He knows._" The older man spoke to him, "_And you should eat. It's been a long night and it isn't over yet._"

Viktor obediently took a bite of his pirozhok8, expecting to not be able to eat very much, but the way the crisp breading melted over his tongue and how juicy the meat and vegetables were, he was suddenly starving. "_Vkusno!9_"

The elder man laughed and Yuri grinned widely, even Otabek's lips were quirked up and that was something that Viktor assumed didn't happen very often. He seemed the more serious type.

"_Deda makes the best pirozhki in all of Russia!_" Yuri laughed enthusiastically, looking like the young man he actually was. Viktor couldn't help but grin along with him and took another bite before realizing he was being rather rude.

"_Ah, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't introduce myself." _Viktor put his pirozhok back on his own plate and extended his hand toward Yuri's grandfather. "_I'm Viktor Mikhailovich Nikiforov. Thank you for letting me be here._"

Yuri's grandfather shook his hand with a chuckle, "_Don't worry so much about formalities. I am Nikolai Ilyich Plisetsky, and you're always welcome here._"

"_That's very kind of you._" Viktor smiled and picked up his tea. It was sweet and a perfect compliment to the food he'd just eaten, and addressed them all. "_I owe a lot to all of you. Thank you for helping me._"

"_But you don't remember me, do you?_" Yuri was surly in his pout, and Viktor tipped his head to the side apologetically and swallowed the bite of his pirozhok he had just taken.

"_I'm sorry. No._"

Yuri sniffed dramatically, and flung his arms to link behind his head as he tilted his chair backwards precariously. "_Well. We only met once, so whatever._"

Viktor was about to apologize again, but then Yuri received a nudge from Otabek with a pointed look at his own watch.

"_Oh, shit! Yeah, you gotta go!" _Yuri flung himself out of his chair with a clatter of his chair and plate, almost spilling his tea before Otabek caught the cup and steadied it. Going to a side table, he pulled out a drawer and fished out a packet of papers. "_Here Nikiforov, your passport, visa and tickets. Beka is going to take you to Switzerland. I'd go, but Yakov said he'd kill me 'cause Nationals are coming up._"

Viktor took the pile of papers that Yuri thrust in his face and peered at his passport, the photo still had his long hair which he'd cut when he was turned twenty, opting for a more adult look as he exited his teens. "_It's not expired?"_

"_Nope_. _Yakov checked. Your… whatever the hell he was, didn't register it as lost or ask for a replacement. Looks like he never planned on taking you out of the country_." Yuri seemed to be unable to help his next muttering comment, which earned a snide eye from Otabek, "_Piss-eating sonofa…_"

Ignoring Otabek and Nikolai chiding Yuri's foul mouth, and him arguing back indignantly that his insults were justified, he examined the plane tickets, one in his name and the other in Otabek's. His coach and friends, friends he hadn't even realized he'd had on his side, had done their best to think of everything to keep him out of harm's way as they extracted him. Looking over the table, the surreal feeling of finally, _finally,_ getting out was starting to settle in his chest. Warmth spread through his stomach and limbs. Even if he didn't know the three that he was sitting with very well, he could tell he would have loved to meet them earlier. He could almost see how they might have had many meals similar to this one, with Yakov, Lilia, or Georgi adding their own chaotic personalities, Makkachin trying to beg food off their plates. He found himself hoping that such a meal could take place in the future.

The future, something he hadn't dared to think of in a long time, and now he had one very nearly in his grasp. It was only a few hours away, and then who knew what else was in store? He joined in laughing along with Nikolai, allowing the hope he'd so fiercely stifled to bloom fully in his mind. Somehow, he'd be okay.

And so would Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. What the eyes fear, the hands do… - A Russian proverb that essentially means either 'you never know until you try' or 'all things are difficult before they're easy'  
2\. Net - No  
3\. Da - Yes  
4\. Zdravstvuyte - A formal way of saying 'hello'  
5\. Deda - an affectionate form of Grandpa  
6\. Spasibo - Thanks  
7\. Don't make an elephant out of a fly - A Russian idiom for 'don't make a mountain out of a molehill'  
8\. Pirozhok - Singular for pirozhki, which, yes, is already plural.  
9\. Vkusno - Delicious
> 
> ### Cultural Notes:
> 
>   * Russians, like the Japanese, will remove their shoes upon entering a home. It's much for the same reasoning. It helps keep the home clean, and it offers those visiting a sense of comfort and familial welcome.
>   

>   * It is not my intention to make this fic feature a lot of religious/spiritual themes, but they will be there as I feel is appropriate to each character's individual cultures and my interpretation. Celestino, being Italian, would have likely had Catholicism around him growing up. Viktor in the anime was shown to be sitting outside a church with Makkachin when he was having a flashback, but I don't interpret him to be hugely religious. In the future, there will be Shinto introduced too, as Yuuri canonically pays his respects to Vicchan at a Shinto shrine at Yu-topia - which leads me to interpret he's at least a little spiritual if only by cultural/family tradition. Just a heads up!
>   

>   * I'm still getting the hang of how Russian names, particularly diminutives, work. I'm doing my best to be accurate in how they communicate with each other, and I'm 90% sure Nikolai would likely call Viktor something other than just 'Viktor' given he's an older Russian gent - I think something to do possibly with his patronymic middle name? But I couldn't find anything definitive on the internets, so I'm not sure! (So I left him addressing Viktor out on purpose.) If you know, let me know so I can fix it! Otherwise it's going to drive me crazy! ^^; I am completely fascinated by languages, and because of YoI, Russian is my current "secondary" language of obsession (the first has been, and likely always will be, Japanese hahaha), so any information is always greatly appreciated! Most of how I use diminutives is drawn from[ this post](https://niedolia.tumblr.com/post/158793053134/psa-for-the-yoi-fandom-russian-names-how-to-use)
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> Yes, I know, I KNOW, I promised Yuuri POV this chapter, but I realized that the way I had the chapters planned out, I'd be jumping back and forth in time if I did his, so you got more of our Viktor first. NEXT time is definitely back to Yuuri, poor man, and we'll find out what happened to him at Ivan's. 
> 
> I'm also sorry for how long it took this chapter to get written. I'm working as fast as I can, but real life doesn't like to let me just sit and write as much as I'd like.


	6. On the Edge of a Telephone Wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's like I'm standing on the edge of just a telephone wire_   
_Trying to get to you first, to say the world's on fire_   
_Holding my breath until I know you're alright_   
_Because the water will only rise_
> 
> _~Islands, Sara Bareilles_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None for this chapter

The first time he'd been shaken awake early, disoriented and foggy from his sleeping pill, an angry voice screaming in his face, he'd teared up and cried. Ciao Ciao's heavy arm had come around his shoulders and reassured him he was safe, but after that, their rehearsals had held no such comfort until after he'd been able to get dressed and pull himself together. And even then, it'd been a clap on the shoulder and a quick apology before attending breakfast together.

But now, he was lost in the floral and fresh scent of lavender and some type of citrus, perhaps lemon. Residual heat pheromones lingered on the pillows and blanket that did not cover him. Even if somewhere in his head he didn't recognize the bed, it was comfortable, and he certainly did not want to wake up - it was comforting even in being foreign.

At least, it was until there was the sudden sound of a door slamming and someone bellowing:

"Where the FUCK is he?!" a fist was curled into his lapel and he was jerked upward. Murderous gray eyes filled his blurry vision. One was bruised and swollen, but that seemed to only add to the threat.

"Huh? Who?" his mind waking after his body, which was instinctively pushing away from the breath laced with old alcohol. A wave of nausea overcame him and he gagged violently. That seemed to be repellant enough for his attacker, and he was left in a heap on the comfortable blankets, trying to fight back the contents of his stomach that were threatening to surface. As he breathed, he wracked in brain momentarily, trying to piece together where he was, why he wasn't in Hasetsu. A waft of the scent of lemon and lavender brought a name to the forefront, and he knew.

_Viktor._

He was still playing the playboy, and he had to get it together soon, otherwise their plotting together might be discovered. Glancing around, he noticed his tuxedo was appropriately scattered, his jacket and tie scattered on the floor, pants over the back of an armchair, and his shirt hanging off one of the bed posts. A wave of embarrassment took to his face, even if it was all according to his and Viktor's agreement the night before. The mics would have at least picked up that he'd requested a shower, and so he was in Viktor's light blue robe, and… yes, he still had his boxers on, he reassured himself as he shifted on the bed, pulling the robe back into its rightful place after Ivan had jerked it.

"What the fuck happened last night, Katsuki?" Ivan still loomed over him as his fingers fumbled across his clothing, and he shook his head to clear it further.

"I don't know." he said flatly, hoping he seemed appropriately discombobulated. He realized that he was mostly telling the truth. There was no way of telling what happened after he'd passed out, but Ivan being this angry was a good sign. _This was good_. He tried to remind himself that the fury being unleashed at him was something he should be happy about. It meant that Viktor had been able to escape. And yet he still felt the quiver of fear in his stomach. Taking a breath, he brushed his sleep mussed hair out of his eyes and winced as his palm brushed his brow. "He… hit me."

Ivan was glaring at him, but he turned his body slightly toward the door. "Go get the audio. I want to hear it myself." And Yuuri realized that there was more than just him and Ivan in the room. Looking up he saw two security guards, the woman that had checked him in and another man he didn't recognize. The man nodded curtly and strode out of the room. "And you, Katsuki, you're going to tell me _exactly_ what happened after I left."

Yuuri glared back up at Ivan, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Finally getting a good look at the alpha, he realized that he was not the only one that'd had a roughing up, though Yuuri couldn't quite find it within himself to feel any sort of pity or sympathy for him. He did vaguely wonder how it had happened, but didn't care enough to ask. He had more pressing matters to attend. The situation wasn't in his control, and he needed to change that. He was supposed to be the angry customer, he'd bought a service - even if he had no intention of going through with any of it - and Celestino had drilled it into his head that he had to appear just as irate as Ivan if he were to get out of there safely. Summoning the anger wasn't hard. He'd never been so furious in his entire life, had never _hated_ anyone before.

"First, he wasn't in heat like advertised." Yuuri said coldly, channeling his actual anger into false words. "He was a sobbing mess after we went into the bathroom and I spent the first part of the night trying to calm him down. After I showered, I left him in there to come out here and get some champagne and put the pill into his. I went back into the bathroom and we talked about skating for a few minutes, but he must have switched the glasses, must have watched me drug his, because after a bit I started to get dizzy. I guess he hit me then to stop me from calling you, 'cause that's the last thing I remember." 

Standing and drawing himself up to his full height, he squared his shoulders as if that was all he had to say. Ivan remained quiet, still glowering, as he began to pick up his clothing. He wasn't about to have the rest of this conversation in naught but his boxers and Viktor's robe. As he stepped toward the bathroom, Ivan gave a low growl, and Yuuri glared back over his shoulder. Apparently, he wasn't allowed any further privacy.

With a confidence he did not feel, he tossed Viktor's robe onto the bed and pulled on his pants. If Ivan thought that him getting dressed in front of others would shake him, he was sorely mistaken. Yuuri practically lived in locker rooms where anyone could walk in, had his body and weight scrutinized in countless media articles, and, all that aside, he grew up in an onsen. Only the embarrassment of possibly giving a show remained, but, he reasoned, wasn't that exactly what he was supposed to be doing? Ivan's steely gaze never left his, aside from when Yuuri had to look away to grab the next article of clothing.

It was as he was tucking his undershirt and dress shirt into the rumpled slacks that the other security guard came back with a laptop under his arm. The computer was placed on a small writing desk and opened, before Ivan shoved the other man's hands away, navigating to the files he wanted himself.

_"Good evening, sir. I hope you've enjoyed your evening so far…_" an echo of Viktor's voice came through the speakers and Yuuri almost dropped his shoe. Recovering by sitting on the bed, he began to put them on, concentrating on making his fingers move. It was already bad enough that he had to live through the previous night, and now it all came rushing back to him painfully clear with his own voice and ruffle of his clothes as he had moved coming through the audio track. Thinking back to their conversation, he sincerely hoped that they hadn't spoken too loudly in the bathroom.

Ivan's back was to him, but the two security guards were watching him closely. He glared at them too, tapping his toe onto the carpet to push his toes into place. It was then that he realized the woman was holding his overcoat, which meant she had his phone. He wanted it desperately, but didn't know what sort of notifications might come through. Celestino, Chris ,Yakov, and he had all agreed to not message each other until Yuuri gave the all clear that he was safe. Yuuri had also erased both Chris and Yakov's contact information and all of their conversations and call logs for good measure. But even so, if Phichit had questioned how his trip to Russia was going, or wanted to start a conversation about his and Ciao Ciao's odd actions during their time in Hasetsu, it could spell disaster.

Yet, he wanted to turn it on, too, if only to allow his GPS to notify his coach that he was more or less okay. The need of having some sort of connection outside of the horrid place he was in was nearly obsessive, and he began to feel the tell-tale signs of panic beginning in his thrumming heart. If Ivan didn't believe his story, if the audio didn't match up, then he might have just switched places with Viktor.

Frantically, he wracked his brain for the lines he was supposed to say if Ivan began to threaten him. That he was an Olympian, that Celestino knew where he was, that the Japanese government would get involved… A low sob that didn't come from him suddenly echoed through the room and he was brought back to the audio. The sounds of the shower running had been hissing through the speakers, and Yuuri blinked back tears at what had made Viktor cry in the first place. His name being spoken aloud.

Perking up his ears, he listened more intently to see if what was actually being said could be understood. Thankfully, all he could hear was his own soothing tone, but nothing else. No actual words were making it through the speaker. Ivan's shoulders had stiffened at the crying, but he remained silent. The security guards' faces remained impassive, though they did steal glances toward the computer, then the bathroom door, before looking back to Yuuri.

Tapping his toe nervously, he quickly changed the motion to one of impatience. His mind wandered back to his phone, trying to think of an excuse to have it. He realized he didn't even know what time it was, and then remembered how Celestino would be calling the police if it became too late in the morning. Thinking he'd momentarily block Phichit, hopefully before any errant texts might come in, and decided to give it a try. It was worth the risk.

"What time is it?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice aloof.

"Shut it." Ivan snapped, not taking his eyes off the computer, as if staring at it would enable him to actually see what had gone on the night prior.

Yuuri frowned, but persisted. "Pause it, then. I told my coach I'd be attending. He doesn't care how I take the edge off from competitions, and he's the one that introduced me to these types of… soirees in the US. If he doesn't hear from me by a certain time, he's calling the authorities and the Japanese Embassy."

That got Ivan's attention. Rounding on him, his face twisted into a snarl, he looked as though he was about to throttle Yuuri. "You little shit…"

"My phone." Yuuri insisted lowly, as he tried to keep his face from showing any of the fear that was bubbling up from his gut.

Ivan stared at him for a beat, trying to see if Yuuri was bluffing. Thankfully, he was not, and was able to win the contest. Ivan nodded to the security guard sharply. His coat was passed to him and he fished out his phone, turning it on and waiting for it to load up completely. Navigating quickly to his texts, he hit the 'block' button on Phichit's slew of texts about how in love he was with Seung Gil before anything new could come. Noting that his location option was still highlighted, he then sent off a quick text to Ciao Ciao, letting him know he was still there without giving any other details. Pocketing the device, he looked back up into Ivan's glare and frowned.

"As you can hear, I'm telling the truth." he gestured toward the laptop, still playing the audio with muffled voices. When Ivan's eyes merely narrowed suspiciously, Yuuri swallowed nervously, when the sound of a door opening came across the speakers. It had been when he'd come out to get the champagne glasses, and he suddenly remembered Viktor's words of advice. "Unless we are discussing terms of a refund, since I _clearly _did not spend the night with him, I would like to go. I have a flight to catch."

It was almost worth seeing Ivan's expression widen and then twist into further fury as he mentioned getting the money back. Yuuri merely slid on his coat as if there would be no question of him leaving, but Ivan did not seem to be willing to allow him to go just yet. But before either of them could argue further, the sounds of a fist hitting flesh, hard, reverberated through the room. Yuuri's brow gave a sympathetic throb as he remembered the torment on Viktor's face as he threw the first punch, followed quickly by a second via a backhand. The poor man had mustered a third strike, but had not been able to continue, and Yuuri had examined his own face in the mirror and gave the okay. The hits had been dizzying enough, and his lip had split wide open. When Viktor had moved to wipe the blood away, Yuuri had stopped him, letting the red dribble down his chin and neck.

There were further noises of fumbling, which had been Yuuri quickly changing into Viktor's robe, before the bathroom door opened. Yuuri was glad to note that Viktor helping him stumble toward the bed sounded exactly like he'd been dragging him. A rustle of blankets and Yuuri's own groan added to the effect, and then more susurrus of Viktor moving about the room for a minute before it all went silent. Yuuri remembered how Viktor had tossed his clothes around the room, and then sat on the floor near the bed, placing their hands together the same way they'd held them before. The last thing he could actually remember was Viktor's tear-jewelled eyes staring at him as his own eyes fluttered shut and his sleeping pill took its full effect.

"See?" Yuuri chimed in as the audio faded. Ivan shushed him as he continued to listen to the audio's silence. There was the sound of metal scratching metal, which Yuuri didn't recognize, but assumed it was Viktor picking the lock, and the door to the bedroom opening. There were more footsteps and the faintest hint of a sigh, and then the footsteps rushed and faded as there was a barely there click. The door shutting behind Viktor. If he'd been able, Yuuri would have cried in relief at the sound of Viktor's escape.

As it was, Ivan snarled, and slammed the computer shut, hard enough to hear a loud crack of plastic.

"Get the fuck out of here, Katsuki. You're lucky you paid so much for the one night, otherwise I'd be charging you more for damages."

The security guards moved to either side of him, reaching their hands toward his arms to which Yuuri growled softly, "Don't touch me." His strides were long as he walked out of the room, every muscle in his body begging to bolt. While the guards were not manhandling him out, they still walked beside him.

He was almost to the top of the stairs, a hand reaching toward the railing when Ivan's voice boomed from behind him.

"If you took a shower, why were your clothes scattered around the room, and not in the bathroom?"

Yuuri felt a stab of panic as he glared back over his shoulder. But instead of allowing the panic to take over, he offered the one scathing remark he had.

"Why don't you ask Viktor?"

* * *

It had been a long night, though, Celestino suspected, not as long as Yuuri's. The long drives to and from the Plisetsky's hadn't been easy with the snow continuing the pile up. On his return, he'd still driven like a bat out of hell, but with far more close calls than Viktor had experienced upon their fleeing. Finally, he'd been forced to slow down as he'd re-entered the city proper, impatient at the new traffic as the city had awoken. Though he was glad to no longer be in Nikolai's car, switching it out at the old man's house for a sleek and modern rental sedan, he'd still be glad to be completely done with driving in the snow.

His phone chimed again, pulling him from his thoughts. He hurried to unlock it, scanning the text that had just come through.

_Coming out the front entrance now. _

Celestino's scowl immediately melted as he read Yuuri's text, and he let out a very long, relieved breath. His chest had been dangling on the wavering edges of tenterhooks since his student's GPS had come alive and a text reading '_Hopefully on my way soon'_ had come through, letting him know that returning to the building where he'd picked up Viktor was the correct choice. But it had been completely silent for nearly forty-five minutes. Had it been much longer, he'd thought, he would have called Yakov and started alerting authorities.

Keeping his eyes fixated on the front revolving doors, he sucked in another sharp breath at the sight of a disheveled, bruised Yuuri emerging into the just-breaking light of dawn. Behind him were two shadows that retreated back into the building, and Celestino watched carefully as Yuuri began to walk toward the end of the block, his phone in hand.

His own phone rang, and it was by his ear immediately. "Keep walking. I see you."

"I'd like to order a car, please." Yuuri's shaking voice came over the line and Celestino sighed. Clearly the young man thought he might still be watched.

"No one is following you so far. Walk another block and get around the corner so no one can see you from the entrance. I'll keep watching."

"Yes, thank you." Yuuri replied, the relief he was feeling evident. He muttered something about sending the address and then disconnected the line. Celestino kept an eye on the door as Yuuri faded from sight, rounding the next corner after a few minutes. When no one else exited the building, he pulled the rental car in gear and moved into traffic.

It didn't take long to find Yuuri, who was standing near an empty bus stop two blocks from the apartment building. Pulling in, Celestino had intended to get out and open the door for him, but Yuuri beat him to it, yanking open the door and all but falling into the front seat. The door was barely shut before Celestino was moving again, speeding his way around the corner and as far away from there as he could possibly get.

"You alright? Those bruises had better be only from Nikiforov."

Yurri's smile was weak and crooked, only moving the side of his mouth that wasn't swollen and split. "No. Ivan didn't touch me… I'm okay, I think. How was Viktor? Is he okay?"

"He was fine when I left him to come get you. They had him talking to Yakov on the phone. How are your teeth?"

Yuuri didn't speak for a minute as he probed his tongue along each tooth, checking for damage. "They're fine. He only hit me a couple times, he couldn't… he didn't want to do more. It looks worse than it is."

Celestino sighed heavily, and reached a large, broad palm and patted Yuuri's knee, "You're a good man, Yuuri. One of the best I know."

Yuuri flushed at the compliment and looked out the window, "_Iie_, it was just the right thing to do."

Celestino let it drop, allowing Yuuri his quiet, humble embarrassment, not pointing out that it was for that precise reason his statement was true.

"But he made it?" Yuuri continued to ask, "Nothing went wrong?"

"He made it." Celestino grinned, finally allowing himself the confidence he'd been faking throughout the night. "If Ivan seemed as lost as you say he did, then he hasn't a clue."

"Where did you take him?"

"Yuri Plisetsky's, and then they flew him somewhere."

"Yuri…? I hope he was nice…" Yuuri's good eye widened in surprise before continuing his questions, "Do you know what time his flight was or where they were taking him?"

"No. Yakov insisted on need to know. I'm not sure even he knows"

"When's ours?" Yuuri followed up, and Celestino knew he was not wanting to endure a nine hour flight to Korea without knowing a thing. He didn't either, and was considering splurging on the wi-fi option, if their plane offered it, and if they hadn't heard any news before boarding.

"Three hours. Hopefully we'll hear soon."

Yuuri was quiet after that, and Celestino didn't attempt to pry any more information out of him. The poor young man's face was ashen and he had the expression of needing to sort through his thoughts. It was an expression he knew well, though he was loathe to know it wasn't simply about how to improve his technical score in his next competition this time. From the corner of his eye, he could see Yuuri swallow hard periodically as they drove in silence.

They were headed straight for the airport, their scant overnight bags in the back seat. They would have to find a restroom where Yuuri could change before going through customs, but that wouldn't be much of an issue. There was a matter of breakfast, however, and Celestino thought about the pirozhki nestled in a paper bag in the glove box. Before he could suggest it however, Yuuri lurched forward.  
  
"Pull over." he gasped, sweat breaking out on his forehead, his skin going near green. Unfastening his safety belt, he shoved it over his shoulder, and swallowed thickly. "Pull _over!_"

Celestino was quick to comply, veering to the shoulder of the road, and Yuuri flung the door open and fell to the asphalt, choking. Out of the car and around it before thinking twice, Celestino braced Yuuri's shoulders and held firmly as the skater emptied the scant contents of his stomach.

"That's it… get it all out." he murmured calmly as Yuuri gagged through a sob and retched again. When he was finished, Yuuri stayed bent over and trembling, hands in the sleet and his pants getting soaked through from the wet road.

"I _hate_ Moscow…" he whimpered pathetically. Celestino's eyes softened sadly, knowing that the city didn't have many fond memories for him. The competitions were fierce and arduous always, and the weather constantly bleak when they had been there, but he knew full well Yuuri wasn't speaking of just that. The last time here had tormented him, cramming a lifetime worth of guilt and worry into just two months time. Even without the last twenty-four hours of what was no doubt a traumatic experience, it'd be enough for Yuuri to never wish to return.

"I know. I'm not really liking it too much myself." Celestino agreed, rubbing Yuuri's back firmly as he did when his student was in the middle of a panic attack. Silently, he wished that Phichit was there to offer his wrist as a grounding scent. It had been years since he'd offered to form a scent-bond with Yuuri, strictly for comfort purposes during anxiety attacks, but had then been informed later by Yuuri's best friend as to exactly why the conservative Japanese man had not been able to look at him for a week. In Japan, those types of bonds were reserved strictly for heat partners and family members.

Yuuri wiped his mouth and spit one more time before crawling back into his seat. Celestino loaded himself into the driver's side and pulled back into traffic. Yuuri was leaning his head against the cool of the window, eyes closed and breathing deep. All signs of an impending panic attack.

"Call Yakov." Celestino suggested as he realized what was happening. Now that Viktor and Yuuri were safe in their care, there really wasn't any reason to not be in contact with one another. Especially with finding out Ivan was not well seated within the Bratva, if Viktor's information was accurate. "Since he talked to Nikiforov, he might be able to help answer some questions."

"I don't have his number anymore." Yuuri sighed as he sat up, "Can you…? Oh, _domo1_."

The coach was already handing his phone over to him before he could finish his sentence. Yuuri took it and copied the phone number into his own contact list and dialed.

* * *

Hearing Yakov speak of how his conversation with Viktor had gone, Yuuri was relieved to know he didn't have to repeat too much of what had gone on between them. But that relief was nothing compared to knowing the younger Yuri had texted to let the old coach know Viktor and Otabek had boarded a plane to Switzerland safely within the half hour prior, with Yuri boarding a short flight to St. Petersburg just after. That meant Viktor was in the air just as he was exiting Ivan's apartment. Their plan had worked out beautifully.

"What happened at the auction?" Yakov asked after the reassurances were uttered. "Chris and I noticed it was a larger sum than what we'd planned."

Yuuri paled and his eyes began to water, even though Yakov's tone was completely neutral. He wasn't accusing or angry, but Yuuri still felt immense guilt.

"I… um… I got into a bidding war. There was…" this he hadn't even considered speaking of yet. In fact, he had momentarily completely forgotten the visceral details of the auction. But with Yakov's very reasonable question, it all came screaming back to him. "There was another person bidding…"

He shot a furtive glance to Ciao Ciao. He had taught JJ for a few years, and Yuuri knew how proud he was of his former student. This would utterly devastate him. Yuuri had spent his time in the car thinking of how much his life had changed overnight, how he'd seen things, and done things, that he'd never wish on another human being. Already he was sensing that the cost to him personally was steep, and he had no idea how much it'd affect him later - but he knew it would be far more than what he was currently anticipating. Now he was quantifying how much he knew, and asking how much he should let others know. The plan was to make a phone call to Interpol as soon as he was able. He'd gladly hand over JJ's name to authorities then, but for his mentor and coach…

No. He couldn't do it. To shatter more of the safe world they'd been in before all this happened was unthinkable. One day, he would have to confess everything to Celestino, but not now.

"Yuuri?" Ciao Ciao gently prodded him from his thoughts just as Yakov gave a grunt over the phone to get his attention.

"I'm sorry…" Yuuri muttered, "The man really wanted Viktor. But I wasn't going to let him… let any of them win. I tried to keep the price low, I'm sorry Yakov. But after a while it was just me and the other person bidding, so I couldn't stop… I’m so sorry."

"Katsuki!" Yakov's voice was sharp, a commanding only a veteran coach could have. Yuuri sucked in a breath and realized he'd been rambling, that he was crying, and Celestino was gripping his shoulder with the other hand still on the wheel. Coach Feltsman's next words were said in a growl, but he didn't seem angry. "Don't you _dare_ apologize for getting Vitya out of there."

"Sor… I mean. Um… okay." his reply was lame, he knew, but Yakov only chuckled dryly.

"Skater Katsuki - I never underestimate men's characters. These last few years you've been a strong opponent to my skaters, but I never thought you would be the one to help bring Vitya back." The old coach's voice got thicker as he continued to speak, which only made Yuuri's eyes tear up even more. "I was wrong about you, Yuuri. You did good."

"_Ano… arigatou2, Feltsman-san…" _ Yuuri said softly. "And… thank you for taking my call."

Yakov only grunted before continuing, "Let me know when you get back home. Yura was asking about you."

"_Hai.3_ I will."

As he hung up the phone, he sighed with relief and turned to the man driving. "They sent him to stay with Chris. His flight took off just a bit ago."

Celestino echoed his relieved breath and nodded. "We did it."

"_Un.4_ We did."

The large Italian's face split into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing. It was infectious. Yuuri started to crack up, too, ignoring the throbbing of his lip and cheek that were protesting his moment of chortling repose. All the tension, the hours of worrying, of planning, practicing, the entire night before being released back into the air as both of them whooped at their unexpected success. They were still laughing as Ciao Ciao navigated the car to the rental drop off at the airport.

The stress of travel, though, took them over. And they concentrated on pulling their bags out of the car, ignoring the attendants' stares at his face, and finding a bathroom. He had known he looked terrible, but actually seeing it was another matter entirely. One eye was all but swollen shut, a cheek scraped and dried blood still was on his chin.

"No wonder he bought the story…" he said with a wince as he washed away the worst of the night, the cold water stinging and soothing all at once. Now that he had a moment, he was realizing how much it was starting to hurt. "Do you have any painkillers?"

Celestino nodded and fished out a few pills and Yuuri swallowed them dry. After retreating quickly into a bathroom stall, he changed into a pair of gray pants, a soft blue tee shirt and tugged on his puffy blue coat that he usually used for his runs to Ice Castle or the rink in Detroit. Everything else was placed into a garment bag, and would be sent back to Chris once he returned home.

After checking in and getting through customs relatively easily, though the one checking his passport eyed him dubiously until he muttered something about a bar fight to explain his appearance, and then they were waiting at the gate to take them to Korea and then Japan. Celestino plopped a bag of food in his lap, and he was surprised to learn it was food Yuri's grandfather had sent along for his breakfast. Even cold, the pirozhki were delicious, devouring his way through three of them before remembering his competition diet wasn't supposed to be over yet.

He spent the hour before boarding unblocking Phichit and scrolling through social media. Peach had posted several photos of him grinning and Seung Gil's small smirk in front of various locations in Hasetsu and Fukuoka. Sure enough, several texts came through asking how he was faring in Russia, and begging to talk to him about why he'd been so secretive over the past few weeks. Yuuri still wasn't sure how to answer his questions. It wasn't that he felt Phichit would be in any sort of danger now that it was over, he simply wasn't sure how much sharing would invade Viktor's privacy. Surely Viktor wouldn't want it known to many people why he'd disappeared for so long, and it certainly wasn't Yuuri's place to tell anyone.

Which led him to wonder about how much contact he'd have with Viktor. He knew Chris, at least, would still be talking to him, as they worked together and had become fairly good friends over the years. But would Viktor want to talk to him? Yuuri at least wanted to have one more conversation, if only to apologize once again for scaring him, and to make sure he was okay. Beyond that, he decided, he'd let Viktor choose. It could be, Yuuri reasoned, that he'd be a reminder of his time with Ivan - and if that were the case, speaking to each other might be painful for Viktor.

That thought brought a twinge of sadness to his chest. As he replied to Phichit, making the same excuse of his poor performance at Rostelecom Cup and getting his head back in the game his reason for being tight-lipped, he was left to wonder why the thought of not talking to Viktor was painful. He didn't think Viktor owed him anything. But he'd always felt an inexplicable draw to him, ever since he'd seen Viktor's brilliant blue eyes on a television screen, then on posters and in magazines, then the first time in Moscow, and finally, remembering them teary and apologetic, as he had fallen asleep in his bed.

The memory of lemon and lavender ghosted past his nose as he an Celestino listened to the call for them to board. Stowing their bags in the overhead bins and then climbing awkwardly into the narrow economy seats, he settled near the window and gazed out onto the tarmac, not seeing the men working below to prepare the plane for takeoff. He was missing Viktor, he realized. And all that knowledge did was send guilt and confusion spiraling through his head.

His phone vibrated and he almost dropped it before he could swipe his thumbprint to open the notification. He tapped on the screen and a breath of relief followed by a sob tore from his throat. It was from Chris.

"Yuuri?"

Fist in his mouth to keep from breaking down in their seats, Yuuri merely held out his phone for Celestino to see the message. It was a selfie. Chris and Viktor were both in the image, both of them with puffy red eyes from crying, Chris' grin spreading from ear to ear, and Viktor's smile smaller, but no less happy. He looked exhausted, and extremely pale under Chris' arm that was nearly crushing him into his friend's side. The text read _Thank you._

Viktor was safe. They really _had_ succeeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Domo_ \- A casual way of saying 'thanks', usually only used with friends/family.  
2\. _Ano... arigatou_ \- 'Ano' has a direct translation of 'that', but really it means 'that is to say...' It is an 'um' for when you know what you're going to say next, but you're feeling like you're being too direct, it softens what you'll say next. 'Arigatou' is one of the more formal ways to say 'thanks'. I could write, like, 500 words about how to say thank you in different ways in Japanese, so Imma just leave it at that.  
3\. _Hai_ \- Directly speaking, it means yes. Yuuri more uses it as an "I will" if you're looking at the context. 'Hai' can be used as any sort of affirmation.  
4\. _Un_ \- 'Yeah', yet another way of giving an affirmation, but far more casual. Yuuri would be more comfortable with Ciao Ciao, having been his student for years, and would see him as a friend as well as coach and mentor. I'm putting their relationship as more friendly than likely would happen if Celestino and he were training in Japan, because they're training in the US, where formalities just don't matter as much.
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> PSA: This probably should have been said earlier, buuut… Do not, do not, do NOT mess around with your own prescriptions, or any one else's for that matter. While I have had trazodone prescribed myself, and therefore can speak to how it can sometimes affect people… This is a story, and silly Yuuri had a little champagne before taking it, which is just a huge 'no-no'… Just DO NOT! *steps off soapbox* 
> 
> And yaaaaay! They're out! Our boys are safe!!! *ugly sobs* Who needs fluff? I needed fluff. If you want unrelated fluff - here's a non-smut, regular world, canon compliant, [one shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406171) complete with a (very) rough sketch. ^^
> 
> AND - for those that have asked questions about how this Omegaverse works - I have completed the world description at my [website.](https://saerendpity.com/fanfiction/world-building/omegaverse/) *passes out from all the writing*
> 
> It might take me a couple weeks to get the next chapter out. With the US Thanksgiving coming up next week, and having some out of town guests, I might be too busy to get the next part out as fast as I'd like. But I shall do my best to get it to you ASAP!
> 
> If you want to yell at me elsewhere, here are my links: 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SaerenD_Pity) | [Website](https://saerendpity.com/)


	7. Envy for the Solid Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Not knowing how to think_   
_I scream aloud, begin to sink_   
_My legs and arms are broken down_   
_With envy for the solid ground_   
_I'm reaching for the life within me_   
_How can one man stop his ending?_   
_I thought of just your face_   
_Relaxed, and floated into space_
> 
> _~Into the Ocean, Blue October_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
The first part of the chapter is one big trigger warning.  
Viktor is in the hospital going through a drug detox of sorts, and he has flashbacks of good and bad times with Ivan, and Viktor is not quite in his right mind and is very distressed as he's going through the detox phase. Biggest warnings are probably for two scenes, one where Viktor is posing for a portrait and one where Ivan forcing him into something he doesn't want (it's not a rape scene). The beginning of the TW is right from the get-go of the chapter, but is marked with ~*~*~ and will end with *~*~*. Summary in the end notes if you want to take a peek to see if you want read that first, or only that. Another option is skipping the italics, which are the flashbacks, and just going through the detox scenes. I bounced back and forth between present day and the past.

~*~*~

_There was nothing like the high of a win, especially on home soil. In a little more than a week, he'd be winning in Quebec at the Grand Prix, he was sure of it. A cocky smile that he couldn't quite help spread across his face as he smiled for the cameras, holding up the gold medal having "Rostelecom 2011" engraved on the edges. He could almost hear Yakov's disapproving grunt as he kissed the cool metal. After posing with Chris as silver medalist and the bronze medalist he'd already forgotten the name of, he skated to the edge of the sheet where he was met by a frowning Yakov, and the most intense pair of gray eyes he'd ever seen. Viktor Nikiforov had always been prone to blushing, but nothing could prepare him for the heat that rushed to his face upon first seeing the gorgeous Ivan Molchalin._

* * *

"Viktor? I need you to breathe." a female voice was saying in French, soothingly but urgent. Gasping for air that wasn't actually getting into his lungs, he flinched away from the feeling of a vinyl gloved hand on his forehead. His whole body was thrumming, hurting, and he clenched down on every muscle to try and hold still. The shaking just hurt, but even his desperate attempts to stop moving seemed to make the trembling worse.

"Vanya, please!" he screamed out, in Russian, French or English, he wasn't sure, as he reached his hand out to something, anything to hold on to. That damned vinyl covered hand grasped it tightly, not allowing him to recoil his arm.

"Is that your alpha?" the woman's voice cooed gently. He snarled and whimpered as she pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead. He didn't even know the roots of his hair could hurt, but they did.

"NO!"

* * *

_"No, Vanya, please… please don't make me do this…" he was crying. Curled into a fetal ball on Ivan's office floor, completely bared and a photographer standing there, unaffected and bored. Socked feet came into his teary vision and squatted before him. Viktor sobbed quietly for a moment before a rough hand yanked his hair upward, and he shrieked in pain as his head was wrenched back to look into Ivan's steely gray gaze. _

_"I don't think I gave you a choice, moya zvezdochka." Ivan's tone was even, collected, and Viktor trembled. He'd been there long enough to know that when Ivan wasn't yelling at him immediately, he had fucked up more than usual. Viktor glanced at the photographer and understood. He was embarrassing his mate. And he would pay for it, dearly, later. "What did I tell you to do?" _

_"P-pose for the camera. And smile." Viktor whimpered out, blinking tears back even as a couple made their way down his flushed and humiliated cheeks. _

_"Then do it. Now." _

_Ivan yanked his hair once more and shoved his head away to show he meant business, and Viktor fell to the side with a small sob. Wiping his cheeks, he took a few steadying breaths before kneeling exactly the way the photographer had told him to a moment before he broke down. _

_"Can you edit out the red and swollen eyes?" Ivan was asking the photographer, who clicked his tongue. _

_"If you want, but some customers will like seeing him crying, anyway. Get them into the fantasy before buying." _

_"You hear that, moya zvezdochka? Your little tantrum might actually be helping for once. You'd better hope the nice photographer is right about it." _

_Clenching his eyes tight, Viktor took another deep breath and looked over his shoulder. He couldn't quite bring his mouth to smile though. _

_"Just like that." The photographer said. "Hold there for a moment." _

_And the camera flashed._

* * *

For what felt like the millionth time, Viktor threw up the meager contents of his stomach. Tasting nothing but acid, he gagged again from the smell filling his nostrils.

"Get it all out, Viktor. You're doing great." another nurse said, a man this time, as he whimpered and shook violently from the exertion. He tucked the basin away, and with it the smell, and then came back to stand next to Viktor's bed. "Can we try the IV again, bud?"

Viktor sobbed and pushed him away weakly, but he stood firm.

"Sorry Viktor, but we really need to get these hormones administered. I know it sucks, but I promise it'll help."

"No… hormones…" Viktor panted out, shoving the man away again and crawling backwards further away on the hard, uncomfortable mattress. Blankets tangled in his legs, not letting him get very far, not that he could get up even if he wanted. Everything hurt. The harsh and sterile lights were blinding, and the smell of antiseptic was making his stomach churn again, even though he'd vomited everything in his stomach. The nurse stepped closer to the head of the bed, and Viktor growled a warning.

"Look man, we can do this easy or hard. It'll be better for you if we do this easy."

"Get the fuck away from me!" Viktor screamed. He didn’t know entirely where he was, just that he didn't want to be there. He didn't know these people, just that they were trying to keep him drugged, compliant, just like Ivan. "Wh-where's Chris? Where's Y-yuuri?"

The nurse sighed, "If we can get Chris here, will you let us help you?"

"Yes!" Viktor bargained, knowing Chris wouldn't let them drug him. Chris would protect him from them, he always had been a good friend, loyal.

"Okay. We'll give him a call. Hang in there."

The nurse left and Viktor collapsed into his pillow, and gagged through shuddering sobs.

* * *

_Viktor had never been kissed like this. Ivan was all tongue and teeth and passion, hands tangling in his hair and the other holding his jaw firmly in place. They were roughly the same height, which made it easier, and Viktor swooned as he opened his eyes.  
  
"Kiss me again." He whispered, bringing his fingers to trace Ivan's full lips that curled into a smirk. God, he was so handsome. His wavy, dark hair framing his oval face, and his narrow nose that had a bit of a bump to it, from breaking it when he played football* in school. Snow fluttered down around them, and Viktor grinned mischievously. He found that he liked when Ivan took control. Every day he was the one that everyone looked up to, the one that took care of everyone else, and for once, he was the one being pampered. _

_"You like that, moya zvezdochka?" Ivan's voice was rich and deep, making Viktor's knees weak. 'His' star. From the time Ivan had called him that, Viktor had loved it. Tugging on Ivan's scarf, Viktor urged him closer as he leaned further against the brick wall of the café, not caring if the passersby were staring._

_"I like it a lot, Vanya." Viktor smiled at him, feeling toasty and warm despite the winter chill of St. Petersburg swirling through the streets. Ivan growled possessively and captured his lips again, and Viktor giggled as he returned the kiss. In the short months they'd been dating, he'd fallen, hard. There had never been anyone like Ivan, so possessive and protective, attentive and generous. Viktor loved being spoiled by him, with the gifts, the kisses, the romantic dinners, not to mention how great in bed they were together. Sure, Ivan sometimes demanded a bit too much of his time, and he'd had to blow off his friends a few times to cater to Ivan's neediness, and had asked to keep their relationship secret, but Viktor didn't mind it, truly. It just simply made him feel wanted even more, and the secrecy made it all so much more thrilling. This was just his, and when your entire life was built for the public, well, to have this privacy was very nice, indeed._

* * *

"Vitya. Vitya!" a familiar, warm voice rumbled close to his ear as two hands framed his face. Viktor's eyes were clenched so tightly shut, panting heavily through his nose, trying to will the pain away, that it was excruciating to look up to see who was speaking to him. The room was dimmer than it had been, and his vision was blurred heavily, but he could tell the speaker was blond. "Look at me Vitya. Breathe. Slow… slower… that's it. You're okay. You're safe."

Finally, he recognized the man looming above him, sitting next to him on the bed. "Chris?"

"Of course, _mon cher_…" Chris smiled and rubbed his thumbs smoothly across Viktor's sweaty cheeks. "The nurses told me you're refusing treatment. I need you to take the injection. It will help."

Panic gripped his chest. No. Not Chris too. He wanted nothing more to do with false hormones and heats, he didn't want it. He'd rather deal with the pain. His breathing sped up and he whimpered, pushing Chris' hands off from him, looking away, and heart breaking. "No. Please… please Chris. No more heats… n-no more… no clients…"

"It's not for a heat, Vitya. And no clients, ever again." Chris hummed softly, adjusting his grip and forcing Viktor's face toward him. "But it's very bad for your body if the hormones are just gone. The injection has just a little bit of hormones to make your body get used to not having the bad ones anymore. Can you do that for me? Please?"

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Viktor glanced over to see yet another nurse looming, an IV stand and needle at the ready. There was an odd look of anger on Chris' face, glaring at the nurse, as Viktor looked back to him in horror.

"Get off!" Viktor screamed, shoving Chris from the bed and scrambling to sit up, curling his knees to his chest at the headboard.

"Vitya, please!" Chris' voice was desperate, but Viktor didn't care. He wanted out, he wanted to leave. He was aching for someone to be there, to protect him, and Ivan's face floated into his vision and he sobbed. No. Not him. Someone else. And he remembered vaguely the scent of cinnamon.

"Mr. Giacometti." An assertive, masculine, tone echoed through the room as Viktor cried into his knees, flinching away from it. "I think it's time you allow us to use the restraints."

Viktor's ragged breath stopped as he peeked up, Chris was standing and facing a shorter man in a lab coat, shoulders slumped and defeated. Chris looked over and Viktor shook his head, pleading, but unable to speak. With a choke and a tear escaping down Chris' cheek, he nodded. "Okay…"

"No! Please, Chris, no! Why?" Viktor shouted desperately as Chris was handily shoved out of the small room amidst more nurses and other people in uniforms rushing in and surrounding his bed. Viktor could no longer see the door, heard it shut and a lock click even with all the shuffling footsteps and scrambling to get away as hands tried to catch hold of him. "Why!? Chris!"

* * *

_Something was very, very wrong. The last couple times of having dinner with Ivan had left Viktor feeling… dizzy. Nauseous. The first time, Viktor had thought perhaps he was coming down with a fever, and Ivan had been kind enough to let him use his bed to rest. Only they hadn't rested. They had done things. Things that Viktor couldn't entirely remember, but when he woke up the next day he'd had a feeling they'd done things he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Snatches of memories spoke of painful positions that left him sore, and bruises he couldn't remember getting from the ice. When they'd talked about it, Ivan had been understanding, had said Viktor told him 'yes', but it must have just been the fever talking. Viktor accepted that answer, and they'd continued on as always. _

_The second time he got sick at dinner with Ivan, his boyfriend had kept his word. Everything had been perfectly lovely, even with the fact that Viktor couldn't keep the food down. Food poisoning, Ivan supposed, miserably apologizing and helping him to bed to sleep. While they'd had sex, it hadn't been rough like before, and Viktor had laughed. Laughed and said teasingly, "Vanya, clearly I'm not in my right mind when I have a fever. No more sex if I get sick, okay?" And Ivan had grinned and promised. Though something about the way his grin looked more like a grimace didn't sit quite right with Viktor. _

_But this was the third time. Viktor had even decided to only have water, instead of his customary two glasses of wine, and he was still sick. Had Ivan's eyes always gotten that dark, that predatory, when Viktor didn't feel good? Something definitely wasn't right. But Viktor couldn't find his tongue, couldn't make it work well enough to say he wanted to go home._

_"Not feeling well, moya zvezdochka?" Ivan teased, and Viktor teared up at how _mean_ Ivan sounded. Every muscle seemed to drip with sarcasm, with a sickening need that Viktor didn't want. He flinched away from Ivan's touch, and Ivan merely hushed him, wiping his tears, "Shhh… everything's fine. You trust me, right?" _

_Viktor felt himself nod, though he wasn't exactly sure if it was the truth. They'd been together for a year, and everything had been perfect. They'd never even had a fight. Or did they? Viktor really couldn't tell. When he'd found Ivan doing something that he didn't like, and they had talked about it, Viktor had realized he'd been being irrational. Ivan always had his best interests at heart, and simply loved him. That's what relationships were, what he'd been told all his life - it was about compromise. But at that moment, he couldn't remember any time where Ivan had compromised anything. _

_Finding his voice, finally, Viktor whispered, "Can you take me home, Vanya? I came here from practice and I'm sure Makkachin needs me." It was a lie. Makkachin was with his neighbor, Viktor knowing he'd likely be staying with Ivan for the night. But now, he just wanted to go home, snuggle in with his pup for the night and sleep off whatever was happening._

_Ivan pulled Viktor to his feet by his wrists, strapping a strong arm around his waist and giving him a bruising kiss along his jaw. It hurt. This wasn't sexy. "Don't you love me, moya zvezdochka?"_

_"Of course I do…" Viktor slurred his words together, but was pushing against him. "Vanya, that hurts." _

_"It'll feel good in a moment." Came the firm reply, and Ivan turned him around, hands holding Viktor against his chest. Viktor inhaled sharply at feeling Ivan's breath against his neck, and then shouted as teeth sunk into his mating gland. Panic set in his stomach and he tried to get away, but Ivan's hand was around his throat, squeezing. Gasping for air as he felt a sickening warmth spread through him from the bitten scent gland. Struggling, trying to break free, Viktor choked and started to cry. Ivan's teeth finally released and suddenly he could breathe again. _

_"Why can't I feel you?" Ivan growled. Viktor could only whine in response, and Ivan whirled him around to look at him. "Are you defective or something? Why can't I hear your thoughts?" _

_"I-I don't know!" Viktor mewled, his fists coming up to push Ivan away, but the grip on his shoulders dug deeper. "Please just let me go home, Vanya. I don't feel well." _

_Ivan's face turned cold. "You really don't get it, do you? You are home, you stupid omega." _

_"Vanya, I told you. I haven't presented. I'm a beta." Viktor sobbed, not understanding why Ivan was being so cruel. He didn't think he'd done anything to make him mad, but couldn't entirely remember. His head was so fuzzy. But Ivan only laughed and the sound held no joy, only derision. _

_"Not anymore. You're my omega now." _

*~*~*

The first thing he could hear clearly was beeping. Steady, rhythmic and quiet, though still obtrusive in his slumber. Silently, he counted the beeps, trying to fall back asleep. He was so, so tired. Fatigue laced every fiber of his being, but his muscles no longer hurt, even if his head was a little achy. After a few minutes, he realized that he wouldn't be able to sleep, not with that high pitch going off every second.

With a groan, he tried to roll over and felt something holding his chest in place. Eyes flying open he looked down. A thick, padded leather strap was over his chest, securing him to the bed. He lifted his hands to try and unbuckle it, but those were tied down too. His chest began to rise and fall with frightened breaths and he looked around the room. It was clearly a hospital, but he couldn't remember being brought here. He wasn't sure if Ivan had brought him for some reason, before he remembered Yuuri, and Celestino, Yuri, his grandfather, the flight with Otabek, and… Chris. Who was sitting by his bed, awkwardly sleeping in a way that would surely leave his neck cramped.

"Chris?" Viktor asked, his voice cracked with the dryness of his throat. Chris grunted in his sleep and jerked awake, blinking once and then his face spreading into a wan smile.

"You're awake!" Chris chuckled with relief, leaning forward to grasp Viktor's hand that was bound to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused." Viktor frowned, "Thirsty… where the hell are we?"

"St. Jean's Centre for Omegas." Chris answered easily, giving a squeeze to his hand before standing and moving to a pitcher of water with a stack of pink plastic cups. Viktor blinked at him and tugged on his restraints a little to test their strength. There was no way he was moving without them being undone. Chris returned and pushed a button on the side of the bed, and Viktor jumped as it began to move to a sitting position. "You scared the shit out of me. One moment we were eating dinner, and the next, you were babbling, all pale and clammy and throwing up before passing out. Turns out it was withdrawals from the fake heat hormones you were on. I didn't realize, otherwise I would have brought you here first."

Chris held a cup with a straw to Viktor's mouth, who scowled, but took a long sip. It gave him a moment to try and remember. He did remember meeting Chris at the airport, and saying goodbye to Otabek who was turning right back around to go through security again to go back to St. Petersburg. But after that it was all hazy. Finishing the contents of the cup, he felt a little better, and Chris smiled at him proudly, as though it was some big accomplishment that he'd drank some water.

"More?"

"Please." Viktor nodded, still confused as to why he'd been tied up, but not sure he wanted to know the answer. If he was in a hospital, and was restrained, he must have behaved horribly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know just how horribly yet. Chris refilled the cup and presented the straw again, and Viktor drank, raising an eyebrow at him to encourage him to keep talking.

Sighing, Chris took the hint and continued. "You weren't in your right mind, Vitya. I think you thought you were… back there. In Moscow. Because you refused any and all help. We had to tie you down and sedate you to get the IV in you so we could taper off the hormones the right way." he shuddered as if it was a terrible memory, but then shook his head and grinned again, "But seems like you're feeling a lot better, _oui1?"_

Viktor drained the cup a second time and nodded. "_Oui. _I have a headache, and I'm really tired." He glanced at his arm, and sure enough, there was an IV connected to a stand and bag that was slowly dripping something clear into his body. But the area around the bandages where the needle was inserted was all black and blue, like he'd been pricked several times. It was like that time he'd tried to donate blood when he was a teenager, but was met with an incompetent phlebotomist. Since then, he wasn't a huge fan of needles. "Um. Can… can you untie me now, though?"

Chris's face fell as he shrugged. "I don't know, _chéri_. That's up to the doctor. Said they'd ban me from visiting if I tampered with them without their saying okay. I should go get the nurse, actually - but… are you sure you're okay? Do you feel like… running or anything?"

"No?" Viktor said, wondering how bad he had been before. "What did I do?"

"Well, you thrashed around, tried to bite a few nurses, shoved them away when they tried to give you the medicine. They couldn't get to you for nearly a day. Every time they'd get the IV in, when you woke up, you'd tear it out. Um… they had to ask me for permission to restrain you, and I didn't know what else to do, so I said yes." Chris' expression was apologetic, and he squeezed Viktor's hand again as he took in the information. After a second, Viktor squeezed back. While he couldn't remember anything about trying to hurt the nurses, or pulling the IV out of his arm, he had no reason to believe that Chris would lie to him.

"So, it seems like I owe some people an apology, then." Viktor muttered, and Chris chuckled.

"They're all okay. They weren't mad. Mostly they just felt bad for having to force you into treatment."

Viktor studied his best friend's face, and realized his eyes were far too red rimmed to only be from lack of sleep. The puffiness of his eyes and cheeks belied how much he'd likely been crying. A pang went through his chest that had nothing to do with his medical status.

"I… I still want to say sorry, if I can." Viktor said softly, and glanced shyly over to the blond, "Can you go get the nurse now? See if I still have to be in these… strappy things?"

"Of course, _chéri_." Chris stood up and kissed Viktor's forehead. The sweet gesture made Viktor smile. He had missed Chris dearly, and tears threatened to spill, so he stayed silent as the other man left the room.

Leaning back against the pillow, he looked out the window. Blinds covered it so he wasn't able to truly see outside, but it was nice to see the sunlight anyway. It seemed to be near sunset, if he was reading the orange hue correctly. He sighed as he tried to remember more of what had happened, and then realized Chris had made no mention as to how long he'd been here. He would have to ask when he returned. He closed his eyes and stretched his neck against the uncomfortable cushion behind him, thinking back to what he _could_ remember and then gasped.

_Yuuri! _ He had no idea if Yuuri was okay. Frantically, he searched his memory for the dinner Chris said he'd collapsed at, tried to recall any snippet of information that could tell him Yuuri was able to escape Ivan, and groaned in frustration that there was absolutely nothing there. For all he knew, Yuuri was still in Moscow, kidnapped or worse. His breathing got heavier as thoughts of Yuuri's body being discovered in the river invaded his mind, unwarranted and unwanted, but he couldn't help it.

At that moment, Chris walked back in, all smiles with a cheerful looking nurse behind him who was giggling, no doubt at something stupid Chris had just said. Chris' face fell as he saw Viktor panicking.

"_Mon cher_? What's wrong?"

"Yuuri! Is he okay? Did he make it?" Viktor ignored the nurse looking skeptically at him, taking a step backward even though he was completely immobile. Chris' eyes went wide and he was by Viktor's side instantly, holding his face.

"Yuuri is just fine. I talked to him a few hours ago." he insisted vehemently. "You don't remember us getting a text about him landing in Korea?"

Viktor slumped against the pillow and let out a dry sob of relief. "No… I-I don't remember anything after the airport."

"Oh, Vitya… I'm sorry. I should have asked what you could remember." Chris patted his shoulder sadly, and then wiped the tears that were silently streaming down his face. He glanced over his shoulder at the nurse, who was looking at them with her eyebrow raised. "Sorry. It's been a rough week." he told her.

"Week?" Viktor croaked, looking up to Chris face. "I've been here a week?"

"Yes…" Chris admitted. "You left Moscow 7 days ago, and have been here for almost six."

That information didn't make Viktor feel any better, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least he knew Yuuri was safe, though, and that was truly all that mattered. He leaned back against the pillow again, and let his head fall to look out the window, though he really wasn't seeing anything.

"Monsieur Nikiforov, can I ask you a few questions?" A quiet, calm voice came from the nurse as she stepped to his bedside opposite Chris. Viktor let out a shaky breath as he looked up at her.

"_Oui._" He said softly.

"Well first, how are you feeling?"

"Tired. I was thirsty, but Chris gave me some water."

"That's good. And you're not feeling nauseous or anything?"

"Not really…"

"Good!"

She continued to ask him a few more questions, about if he was in any pain, if he felt hungry, what he could remember, all while bustling about and taking his vitals manually instead of relying on the still beeping monitor that was supposed to do that for her.

"Well, Monsieur Nikiforov, I think we can go ahead and take these off you. Everything seems good to me, but I have to get the doctor's permission to do that, so I'll be right back and he can answer any questions you might have, alright?"

Viktor nodded as she hurriedly left. Chris took his hand again and smiled through teary eyes. Viktor blinked as he realized Chris was crying, and said nothing. Clearly he had been far more trouble than what Chris had been expecting, and guilt was eating away at him. Everyone that had helped him had been on the receiving end of far more than they had bargained, and it made him feel awful. There was nothing he could do at the moment to even begin making it up to everyone, but he promised himself he would. Behind the guilt, however, was the warmth of gratitude that all of them had put up with his situation, had taken the best care of him possible, even getting him medical treatment that he'd had no clue he would need. None of this had been easy, and he wished that he'd been able to do it on his own. An impossible wish, he knew, but it only made him more determined to get back up on his own two feet and begin the repayment.

Giving Chris a weak smile, he squeezed his hand and closed his eyes, waiting for the doctor to come and give him what would no doubt be a very technical explanation as to his status. He must have dozed off while they waited, hands still locked together, because he jerked awake as the door opening announced a new arrival. Forcing his eyes open, there was a squat man in a white lab coat and tie standing at the foot of the bed, flipping through a chart. He looked vaguely familiar, but Viktor couldn't quite place him. He supposed they had met in the days prior and the man was simply a casualty of the lost days.

"Monsieur Nikiforov, it's good to see you doing better!" The doctor smiled at him after a second, "Before we begin, though, I have to ask if it is okay if Monsieur Giacometti stays. I am going to be asking you questions about your past medical history to get a more complete picture of your status, as Monsieur Giacometti wasn't exactly sure on the details."

Viktor gasped quietly but didn't have time to think it through just then. The nurse that had returned with the doctor had her hands on the buckles of his restraints and he watched her blankly as he mulled over the question. As his wrists were released, he lifted his arms and winced at how sore they were, how weak. He could remember only being this weak once before, and, oddly enough, it was at a hospital, too. Shoving that memory aside, he forced himself to think about the doctor's question.

It honestly depended on how much detail the doctor would need. Viktor used to be no stranger to interviews and stopping them if the questions had become too personal, or redirecting them to something more superficial - though he was sure that wouldn't be a wise tactic here. He decided that Chris could stay for now, and if the came across a question he didn't want to answer in front of his best friend, he'd ask Chris to leave. Chris would understand.

Viktor nodded at the doctor, still rubbing his wrists even though there was no marking thanks to the padding and the bindings had not left him without circulating blood. It was soothing, perhaps because the motion released some of his own scent. "Chris can stay… for now."

The doctor nodded curtly and the nurse excused herself from the room. The questions didn’t begin immediately, leaving them in an awkward silence as the doctor caught himself up on the notes on the clipboard.

"I'm Doctor Durand, and I've been overseeing your care for the last several days, Monsieur Nikiforov. You were quite a puzzle when we first met. Monsieur Giacometti said, by way of another friend of yours, that you had been… ah… kept in a false heat state for quite a lengthy period of time, but neither were sure of how long you were on those false hormones. Were they correct?"

"_Oui._" Viktor answered quietly, looking at the loose knit pattern of his blanket. Chris patted his thigh reassuringly. "It was… about five years. Off and on."

"And were you under any medical care during that time?"

"_Oui._ I was seen regularly by a physician, I think… at least, that's what I was told he was. I don't know for sure."

The doctor looked up for a moment and hummed as he thought, then jotted down a note on a tablet rather than the file itself. Perhaps this wasn't information that was needed to be given to the nurses as well, but Viktor wasn't sure. He didn't ask.

"Typically in… cases like this, we have seen that any medical care given, or medicine administered, were done by doctors or pharmacists that were either relieved of their licenses, or working off the clock illegally. Did you ever go to that doctor's office, or was it strictly home visits?"

"Home visits only." Viktor swallowed thickly, and Chris, who seemed to be watching him closely, moved to refill that pink water cup. Viktor took it with a small, grateful smile and took a sip. "I… rarely left the house."

"I see." The doctor didn't give any sign of judgement, and Viktor wondered exactly how much Chris had been able to tell him, "Now, this is where we get to the more personal questions, Monsieur Nikiforov. Monsieur Giacometti stated that last he saw you, you were a beta, but your other friend - a Monsieur Katsuki - I believe, stated that you were an omega. Our tests confirmed that you are, indeed, an omega, but I have to ask - was your presentation natural?"

Viktor began to blink rapidly, remembering the first time Ivan had ever called him 'omega', right after forcing the bond for the first time. "_Non2. _It… it was… I had dinner with my… um… well he was my boyfriend then… a few times and then I got sick after the last few of them, and then he started to call me omega. Ah- after that, I was always sick, like in heat - but not as bad? Vanya said it was normal. I didn't realize what was happening._" _

Finally, Doctor Durand showed some emotion. His brow furrowed and he looked up from his note taking to make eye contact with Viktor. "I am so sorry that happened to you, Monsieur Nikiforov. It is never easy to present anyway, but I am sure it was a very confusing time for you."

A hollow laugh escaped Viktor's throat, and he covered it up by taking another sip of water. "It still is."

Chris' grip was still on his thigh, and tightened. They exchanged a look, Viktor smiling reassuringly, and Chris' eyes filling, but he kept the tears to himself.

"And your bond. Was it forced?" Doctor Durand continued, more gently than before, bringing them both back to the conversation. Viktor gave a shaky sigh and nodded.

"I'll make the questions um… easier to answer." Viktor said quietly. "All of it was… involuntary. I didn't want… want any of it to happen…"

It was then he broke down, curling his knee up to his forehead to hide, even though hiding was pointless. Tears spilled forward, hot and large, and his shoulders shook silently. He felt the bed dip and Chris' arm come around his back, but he didn't lean into it. As much as he was grateful for Chris being there, being supportive and gentle with him, in this he was alone. No one else knew all that had gone on, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to ever fully describe it, or if he even wanted to try. It was terribly isolating and lonely.

"Monsieur Nikiforov…" The doctor sighed sadly, and Viktor sniffed as he looked up through the fringe of his hair. "I know talking about it is not easy, and I am grateful to you for trying. I have just a few more questions, and then I'll let you get some more rest." Viktor nodded for him to continue, and Doctor Durand let out a quick breath. "Monsieur Nikiforov, during that time…. Were you ever pregnant?"

Viktor's heart twisted in his chest from an all-too familiar pang, "_Oui._ Once. I had a baby girl." he sobbed once into his hand. Chris' arm tightened around him and he finally leaned into the comfort. "I n-named her Tatiana."

* * *

Chris had almost fought the nurses trying to kick him out of Viktor's room as visiting hours ended, but when Viktor laughed and insisted he'd be okay, and likely would only be sleeping anyway, he relented and headed home. Fishing his keys out of his coat pocket, his hand shook from fatigue and stress as he inserted the house key into the antique lock. He loved his home. It was rustic met with modern, cushy but not so much that it felt like his grandmother's old house. The best part of living in the loft, however, was the man who was on the other side of the door, likely asleep due to the late hour.

He swung said door open and stepped tiredly inside, flipping the light switch to the entryway so he could see enough to take off his shoes. Securing the locks again, he shed his coat and put his wallet and keys on the table so they'd be ready for him when he returned to the hospital the next morning.

The conversation with the doctor had been… a lot to take. He'd done his best to be the supportive rock that he felt Viktor needed, but hadn't been able to help crying along with his friend during the more emotional points of the talk. Slumping into the overstuffed couch, he leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes and cheeks with his palms.

"_Mon colibri3?_" a sleepy voice echoed behind him as the door to the master bedroom clicked open. Chris sighed and gave a weak smile over his shoulder at his husband, his beautiful alpha. He stretched his hand back over the couch, silently asking Levin to come join him.

"I'm sorry for waking you, _mon amour4._" he said quietly as Levin came around the couch and sat next to him. An arm curled around his shoulders and his alpha pulled him into his chest. Chris stifled a sob at the comfort and sighed with relief as he curled his own arms around Levin's chest.

"How is he today?" Levin asked quietly, carding his long fingers through Chris' hair, giving him quiet, calming kisses in their wake.

"Much better." Chris replied, eyes shut as he squeezed the chest beneath him tighter. "They took off the restraints and he's not in pain anymore… he can talk normally and we took a walk around the grounds to get him some fresh air - he's still a little nauseous and weak though."

"That's good, though right?" Levin asked, his voice becoming confused as to the heavy emotions Chris knew he was sensing through their mutual bond. Chris nodded and looked up into his lover's face, smiling at how the pony tail he usually slept in was disheveled and his auburn hair was sticking out in odd places.

"It's very good, _chéri…_ It's just… he told the doctor more of what happened while he was missing and…" Chris started to tear up again. Levin's arms braced him, clutching him tight as Chris began to cry in earnest. "I thought he was _dead._ But he wasn't! He was living through hell, and we were… we were getting married and moving on, and he was just stuck there!"

"Oh, _mon colibri… mon amour…_" Levin began to rock back and forth, bringing his wrists to Chris' neck and scenting him. The effect was almost immediate, though Chris was still sobbing quietly, he was no longer shaking. "I know it has been a lot… but you can't feel guilty for not knowing what we couldn't know. And now that we know he's okay, that he's getting better, we can all work to actually move on instead of just wondering and asking ourselves 'what if'… it is much better this way."

"I know…" Chris admitted miserably. "But I'm allowed to feel like an ass for not having my best friend at our wedding."

"If it makes your perfect ass feel better, then feel it for a bit… but don't let it get in the way of everything else, alright?" Levin said calmly. He was always calm, always soothing; which was good for Chris. He knew full well how eccentric and wild he could be, and Levin Masumi had always been the polar opposite, until he got on the ice and into his 'ballroom persona.'

"_Oui, mon cher…_" Chris agreed and took a deep breath as he absently traced patterns onto Levin's silk pajama shirt. "Let me get ready for bed and I'll come join you."

Levin tipped Chris' chin up and gave him a sweet, chaste kiss. "Viktor will be alright. He's here now. And we'll be okay too. Whatever it takes."

Chris smiled as he sat up and laced their fingers together. "Promise?"

"On my life."

Snorting, Chris pulled Levin up to his feet and pulled him in close, coiling his arms around his neck and nuzzling into his scent gland. "Dramatic, much?"

"You're rubbing off on me." Levin chuckled and hoisted Chris's legs to wrap around his waist. Chris chuckled at the pun as he literally ran his wrist over his alpha's gland, purring at how their scents mixed together. He clung to him as Levin walked to turn off the entry light and made his way carefully back to their bedroom.

* * *

As much as Yuuri loved being in Japan, Tokyo was probably his least favorite city. From a foreigner's perspective, he supposed it had its charm, but for a native, he much preferred the countryside or his quiet town of Hasetsu. The noise and lights made it far more busier in his head than he preferred it to be, and he still had three and a half more days there.

Though all of the bustle of the city was left behind, currently, as he stood in the brand new locker room of the Musashino Forest Sports Plaza. What he could currently hear was the loud music over the PA system of a routine being performed, but he had no interest. It wasn't that he didn't have any female skating friends, he just didn't have any Japanese female skating friends, and so watching the Ladies' short program for Nationals didn't appeal to him. Especially after the morning he'd just been through. Aside from that, the men's short program wouldn't be until the next day, and he was just there to get his assigned locker, drop off some of his skating gear, and go back to the hotel to rest.

Grateful that none of his other competitors had the same idea, he sat in front of his open locker, staring into it blankly. The morning meeting with the lawyer Celestino had flown in from America, along with the Interpol agents that had also flown in from their offices in Bangkok, was swirling in his head. Yuuri was truly grateful for Mr. Antonio Gonzalez, Esq. for negotiating full immunity for him participating in a human trafficking auction in exchange for the information he had. Even Mr. Gonzalez had assumed that Yuuri wouldn't have been charged, given the circumstances, but Celestino and the practicing lawyer had both agreed to be safe rather than sorry. Because of the time sensitive issue of most of these cases, they were able to negotiate within a couple days, and the meeting had been set up, thankfully, before he would be competing.

Yuuri had hoped to talk to Viktor about it before going in, but from the few conversations with Chris, he understood that Viktor had a lot going on, himself. It made the Japanese skater ill to think that Viktor had escaped one prison, just to be forced violently into restraints, even if it was for his health. Chris had sent him a text in the middle of the night telling him that Viktor was well enough now to be unrestrained, and was recovering well, but that didn't mean Yuuri wasn't still worried. Beside that, he felt awful telling what he knew of Viktor's story to investigators without his permission, even with Chris swearing up and down that the man wouldn't be angry with him for it.

Though, to the investigators' credit, they had told him that, while they would be reaching out to Viktor for a statement, they would not push it if he didn't want to talk to them. Yuuri had breathed a sigh of relief at that, but now his stomach was churning with anxiety. Questioning if he had truly helped, or if he was causing further harm to those that were captive, or if he had remembered their faces well enough to be able to lead Interpol on the correct path.

On the plane ride from Moscow, he'd written down every detail he could remember on his phone, the names he'd given the captive people, and their features. Interpol had sat him down with a laptop and asked him to go through thousands of pictures of missing people that were suspected to be victims of human trafficking, which he had not expected. He identified fifteen of the nineteen, other than Viktor, that were being sold, and had tagged at least ten more images of those that _could _have been the remaining. Some of those, he was told, had been missing for far longer than the five years Viktor had been there, had been missing since they were children.

After he and Mr. Gonzalez were finished with the Interpol agents, they had met Celestino in the lobby of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police building, and Yuuri had all but run out the doors and emptied his breakfast into a trashcan. That had been almost two hours prior, and he still had no appetite.

With a groan, he buried his face in his hands and let out a sigh that he felt like he'd been holding since Rostelecom. Funny that he was in a locker room now, when two months prior he'd been approached in another one a continent away.

But before he could ruminate on that further, Chris' ringtone began blaring from his pocket and he jumped to answer it.

"Chris?"

"_Bonjour, mon cher!_" Chris' cheerful voice came over the line and Yuuri smiled weakly, glad to hear him again, even if it had only been the day before since they had last talked. "Since you're answering, I'm guessing you're done with your meeting, _oui?_"

"_Oui… _um…_ hai_… I mean…" Yuuri groaned at his own fumbling, "Yes. I'm done."

"Ahh, Yuuri,_ mon petit chou5_, I'll have you speaking the language of sex, yet." Chris laughed, and Yuuri chuckled along with him, but then his choreographer's tone changed to gentle, "Are you okay?"

"_Un… _yeah… I'm okay." Yuuri told him with a deep breath. "It was… it was a lot. But I told them everything and was able to identify most of the other people that Ivan's group were… um… I mean that I saw." He let his voice fall a little, realizing that while he thought he was alone, he could very easily have missed another person being in the locker room with him. Yuuri stood, shut his locker and spun his padlock back to 'zero' and began to walk out of the facility. "How is he?"

"I haven't seen Vitya yet this morning, but I'm walking into the hospital now, so I'll know in a moment. If he's up to it, I know he's been wanting to talk to you." Chris paused, "I don’t know if I should tell you this, but he asked for you while he was… incoherent."

"He did?" Yuuri blinked more in surprise than from the sunlight of the late afternoon as he stepped out of the sporting arena, and quickly found a bench. In true Japanese fashion, he placed his hand over his mouth and the speaker, hiding his small smile at the thought of Viktor asking for him.

"_Oui_. And he asked how you were yesterday. Several times. He was really worried and wanted to talk to you, but it was the middle of the night. Hold on a moment, I'm about to walk into his room." There was a shuffling and a door opening. He could hear an exchange in French and another voice laughing, and also something about coffee. And then Chris switching back to English, "Someone on the phone for you, if you're up for it."

"Is that Yuuri!?" Yuuri heard an eager shout and a failed protest from Chris and a scuffle against the phone speaker and then a voice that sounded far more clear than he had ever heard it before. "Yuuri! Thank _god_ you're okay! I was so worried…"

Yuuri fought back tears at hearing Viktor's voice. "Yeah, I-I'm okay Viktor. How are you?"

"I'm fine! Don't worry about me, Chris has me holed up in some sort of medical facility. But tell me what happened… after… after everything. Is your face okay? Did Vanya try anything? How did you get out? Are you sure you're absolutely safe?" Yuuri heard another vague protest from Chris, and he assumed it was chiding Viktor for asking so many questions, because the next thing he heard was Viktor snapping at him, but not truly angry, away from the phone line, "Shut up, Chris. I've been worried sick, and you're the one who sent our Yuuri into a damn _black market_!" He hissed the last words.

The blush that flooded Yuuri's cheeks was definitely from Viktor's calling him 'our Yuuri' but he bristled under the insinuation that he'd been sent involuntarily to the auction.

"Viktor… Viktor!" Yuuri interrupted Viktor's continued tirade, now in French, against Chris and when his voice faltered with a childlike 'Hm?' back into the receiver. Yuuri chuckled with exasperation. "I'm okay. My face is okay. Phichit works wonders with concealer… And Ivan was mad, but the plan worked and he thinks you tricked me and escaped. It worked perfectly and I'm safe at home. Don't… don't blame Chris for asking me to go," he felt his cheeks burn even further as he prepared his next admission. "I… I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't know you were okay."

"Oh, Yuuri…" Viktor's voice choked quietly on the other end, "I'm… I am so grateful, and I am so sorry for involving you. I didn't want to put you in any danger… I can't thank you or apologize enough."

"Once is too much." Yuuri insisted almost reverently, trying to hold back his own tears. "But seriously, Viktor… how are you?"

"Um… Better. Truly." Viktor admitted and Yuuri smiled, "I guess it was a rough few days, but I don't remember much of it. I just remember puking. A lot."

Yuuri chuckled and Viktor joined in, "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better." There was an awkward silence for a split second before Yuuri continued. "Um… Viktor? I have something to tell you."

"Alright?" The other man's voice betrayed his immediate apprehension, "Did Vanya do something to you?"

"Vanya…? Oh, you mean Ivan? No. That's not it." Yuuri took a deep breath and decided the only thing he could do was start talking, "After I got home, I… made a call to Interpol and… made a full report of everything I saw that night."

"Oh." Viktor was silent after that, and Yuuri held his breath as he waited for Viktor to process the information. "So… you told them about me… and about Vanya."

"What I knew, yes." Yuuri said apologetically, "But mostly we talked about the others that were up for auction there, and I identified them for the investigators… I'm so sorry. I had wanted to tell you before, to ask if it was okay to talk about everything… but y-you were…"

"Yes. I was definitely indisposed." Viktor sounded thoughtful, rather than angry, and Yuuri supposed that was a good sign. "I'm so sorry, Yuuri. I should have been in that interview with you. I could have given them more information, maybe."

Relief seeped into Yuuri's bones, nearly melting him to the sidewalk beneath his feet. "Y-you're not mad?"

"Not at you." Viktor reassured him quickly. "I'm… I think I'm mad at myself for not being able to be there. And… I'm definitely mad at Vanya, and those that enabled him… but no. Never at you, Yuuri. You saved me."

"You did the hard part." Yuuri insisted. "You're the one that had to actually run…"

Viktor scoffed, "I doubt that was the hard part… But Yuuri… um… When…" there was a deep breath through the phone and Yuuri held his, "When can I see you again?"

Viktor's question rushed out, and Yuuri blinked in surprise, too shocked to say anything immediately, and so Viktor continued, "I mean, I understand if you don't want to see me. I did cause all of this, and I hit you pretty hard… but, I'd really like to see you again, if only to just… thank you in person."

"I'd really like to see you again, Viktor…" Yuuri admitted softly, blushing furiously at the prospect of meeting Viktor under completely normal, well, more normal than it had been, circumstances. "I'm at Nationals right now, but maybe… maybe after? I could come visit?"

"Nationals!" Yuuri jerked the phone away from his ear at that, "Do you have practice? Or are you competing soon? When is it over?"

"No, I compete tomorrow, don't worry. I'm just resting tonight. They're over on the twenty-fourth."

"Oh! Just in time for my-" Viktor cut himself off with an embarrassed grunt and Yuuri could hear Chris laughing in the background. "Um, never mind. Just… whenever you have the time, Yuuri. I'd love to see you."

While Viktor spoke, Yuuri had been thinking about the sentence he'd cut off, and then blushed. "Viktor, do… do you want me to come for your birthday?"

The squeak over the phone ensured that Yuuri's cheeks would be stained pink for days, and he mentally slapped himself for admitting he knew Viktor's birthday off the top of his head. "How do you know my birthday? But um… I'm sure you have plans. It's Christmas for most of the world and all that. It's silly to think you'd be free just after Nationals, and I'm sure there's a Gala you're expected to skate in."

"It's not a huge deal in Japan, Viktor. If you want me to visit for your birthday, I'll… I'll see what I can do?" Yuuri ignored the question of how he knew his skating idol's date of birth, still embarrassed he let himself slip like that.

"Okay!" Viktor's enthusiasm shot a jolt of lightning through Yuuri's chest, and he grinned stupidly as he promised to look into flights and they disconnected, with Viktor promising to try and watch the competition to cheer for him. Getting up from the bench, he made his way to the train station to take him back to the hotel. People passing him by were giving him odd looks, but he couldn't help the smile that was plastered onto his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Trigger Warning Summary:
> 
> I wrote this bouncing back and forth between the present and the past. 
> 
> Flashback - Viktor wins at the 2011 Rostelecom Cup and is looking forward to the GP Final in Quebec. After the medal ceremony, he meets Ivan for the first time. 
> 
> Present Day - A nurse is encouraging Viktor to breathe and he is in a lot of pain. He cries out for 'Vanya' and is asked if that is his alpha, to which he answers emphatically 'No!'
> 
> Flashback - Viktor is being asked to pose nude for an advertisement for the auction. He cries and begs Ivan to not make him, but Ivan threatens him (the threat is vague) and forces him to take the picture. The photographer makes an uncouth comment about Viktor crying in the picture being a good thing. 
> 
> Present Day - Viktor is vomiting a lot, and a nurse is helping him through it. The nurse asks if Viktor wants to try the IV again, and Viktor thinks incorrectly that it will be more of the heat hormones that Ivan would give him. Viktor is not in his right mind and can't discern reality from his past. Viktor asks for Chris or Yuuri, and the nurse asks if Chris is there if Viktor will take the IV, and Viktor agrees. 
> 
> Flashback - A happy memory with Ivan. He and Viktor are kissing outside a cafe, and there is mention of how Viktor likes how possessive Ivan is, and hints about how Viktor was blowing off his friends, at Ivan's direction, to spend time with his boyfriend. 
> 
> Present Day - Chris is at the hospital, and trying to convince Viktor to take the IV. Viktor still refuses and his doctor asks Chris if they can now restrain Viktor - and Chris agrees. 
> 
> Flashback - Viktor has had three dinners with Ivan where he was left nauseous and ill. The first dinner is summarized as Ivan taking advantage of Viktor's fever state and doing things that Viktor would not normally agree to in bed (it is not graphic), the second dinner is summarized where Ivan didn't push for anything other than normal sex when Viktor was sick, but Viktor asked him to not try anything while he was ill. Ivan promises, but there's a look in his eye that makes Viktor uneasy. The third time, Viktor is starting to catch on that something is wrong, that Ivan might be drugging him, and he asks to go home. Ivan doesn't let him and forces a bond mark on Viktor's neck, and it is revealed that Ivan has forced Viktor to present as an omega.
> 
> ### Translations:
> 
> We're practicing our French this time! 
> 
> 1\. _Oui_ \- Yes. 
> 
> 2\. _Non_ \- No
> 
> 3\. _Mon colibri_ \- My hummingbird. … Just look at Chris' skate outfits and I think it's pretty clear why I chose this endearment. ^^
> 
> 4\. _Mon amour_ \- My love
> 
> 5\. _Mon petit chou_ \- My little cabbage. I figured it was better than little piggy?
> 
> ###  Other Notes:
> 
> *Football meaning "Soccer" yo. I'm not about to put a Russian into American Football pads, even if it is only Ivan. XD 
> 
> Musashino Forest Sports Plaza - Opened in late November 2017 and was built specifically for the 2020 Olympics! But the opening date meant that the 2017 Japanese Nationals for figure skating was one of the first events held there, which I thought was pretty awesome. I was tickled to find that I could write about it a tiny bit, because it looks like a gorgeous complex.
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> Hello! I am so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. Truth be told, I was a bit stuck. You have Taylor Swift to thank for this chapter - "Trouble" came on the radio as I was trying to decide how to write this next bit and I realized I could work in a couple flashbacks of good times with Ivan here, and I pounded this chapter out in 24 hours. I had always intended on showing a bit more of how Ivan and Viktor were at the beginning, but hadn't necessarily intended on it so soon - but I thought it fit well. Now I am back into the writing grove and we will continue on! 
> 
> If you're confused as to how Ivan can 'force' a presentation of an already established beta, I encourage you to visit my [website](https://saerendpity.com/fanfiction/world-building/omegaverse/) and take a peek at the "Omegaverse" world building section. I'd explain here, but the TW summary took up a lot of space and I figured that was more important when I have another place where you can investigate the particulars of this 'verse. I only have so many characters to write here before Ao3 will cut me off ^^;
> 
> Come holler at me on Twitter!


	8. So Afraid of Losing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm sinking_   
_I'm drowning_   
_I'm so afraid of losing_   
_My head's been spinning round and round_   
_Since you've been around_
> 
> _I'm foolish and crazy_  
_I just think that maybe I got things to figure out_  
_I'm winning_  
_I'm losing_  
_I'm afraid of never choosing this heart of mine, so beaten down_  
_Before you came around_
> 
> _~Since You've Been Around - Rosie Thomas_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None!

**From: Unknown number; 00:05**

**Hi Yuuri! **♡♡♡ **It's Viktor. I made Chris get me a phone!**

**From: Sex on **⛸**s****; 00:08**

**I got Vitya a phone. Be prepared for a lot of texts. He's bored at the hospital. **😅

Yuuri got the texts in the middle of the night in quick succession, and he couldn't help but laugh, even through the groggy fog of sleepiness. Quickly saving Viktor's number he shot a text back to both.

**To: Sex on **⛸**s****; 00:09**

**I see that. Why do I have a feeling there is no preparing for it?**

**From: Sex on **⛸**s****: 00:09**

**Because there isn't. But you have been warned. I've done my duty.**

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:09**

**Hello Viktor! I hope you had a good day **

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:10**

**Omg, I was SO BORED. Daytime television in Switzerland is worse than Russia. **🤢

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:10**

**What time is it there? Are you supposed to be asleep?**

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:10**

**Oh god, I didn't wake you up did I!?**

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:11**

**I'm sorry you were bored, and yeah, I should probably be sleeping, it's a little past midnight, but I have trouble before competitions sometimes. What time is it there?**

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:11**

**Oh, right. You did say something about that. It's just after 4pm here. Should I leave you to try and sleep for now? **

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:12**

**I'm okay. I still have a enough time before I need to be awake. **

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:12**

**If you're sure… just tell me to shut up if I get annoying. **

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:12**

**What games are kids playing on their phones nowadays? Chris just left and when you go to sleep I need something to occupy my time.**

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:13**

**I'm actually not sure? I don't play a lot of mobile games. **

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:13**

**My friend Phichit says he really likes 'Hello Neighbor' but I think its creepy.**

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:13**

**But Candy Crush is still around? I still play that one.**

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:14**

**I'll look at that neighbor one, and OMG Candy Crush is still around? I loved that game! **

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:14**

**Why does that not surprise me? **

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:15**

**Yuuuuriiiii! Don't tease me! **

**From: Viktor; 00:15**

**But I guess Candy Crush will just make me crave candy, so probably better not? **

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:15**

**Haha, sorry. I'll keep the teasing to a minimum.**

**To: Viktor**♡**; 00:16**

**But you should play whatever you want, and eat whatever you want. You deserve it.**

**From: Viktor**♡**; 00:16**

**You're a terrible influence, Katsuki Yuuri. And please don't stop teasing. It's cute. **

Blood flooded into Yuuri's cheeks as he stared at the last next. Whatever sleep he had hoped to get minutes before was gone now in the wake of texting Viktor freaking Nikiforov, and… were they… flirting? He shoved that thought away as quickly as it had come. There was no way Viktor Nikiforov would be flirting with him. It was likely the way Chris would say completely socially inappropriate things at the most inopportune time. Or like the way he'd entered his contact information as "Sex on Skates" when they'd exchanged info years before. Yuuri had thought it funny, and so he didn't change it, even though when Phichit saw it there had been no end of teasing. But through all of the flirty exchanges that Chris gave him, they both knew there was nothing there to explore. They simply weren't the other's type, though, Yuuri could admit that Chris was an attractive man in his own right.

Viktor and he continued texting for the next hour before Yuuri reluctantly told him goodnight, who then promptly wished Yuuri good luck on his short program that afternoon, and left him to try out Phichit's suggestion of a game, or devolve into cravings of chocolate and sweets like he had threatened before. But Yuuri took it as a good sign that Viktor was talking about eating. He'd heard from Chris that food had not been in Viktor's mind for much of the previous week. And so, he put his phone down, staring at it from his hotel bed, almost wanting it to buzz again with a text from Viktor.

In the precious hour before, he'd learned that Viktor's favorite sweet was gingerbread, his favorite color was flamboyantly pink, and that he had a secret love of bad horror and monster movies. In return, he'd told Viktor of his love of katsudon - promising to try and make it for him when he went to visit - that his favorite color was a dark blue and his guilty pleasure movies were fantasy Korean dramas.

Almost as if an answer to his wish, Yuuri's phone buzzed once again. Only this time, it wasn't from Viktor, but after reading the contents, he couldn't bring himself to feel disappointed.

**From: Sex on **⛸**s; 01:23**

**Vitya told me about your visit. You'll stay with Lev and me. No arguments. There's also no arguments about me buying your ticket, so just let me know what flight you pick. Do our program proud tomorrow! XO**

* * *

His calendar is full. Every day holds something, an obligation to his career. Sponsorship interviews, promotional photo shoots, press reviews, training and doctor appointments, Yuuri simply didn't have enough time to just pick up and go to Switzerland for any chunk of time, especially with the upcoming Olympics in South Korea. All eyes in Japan were going to be on him, and it was a pressure that was mounting as he stared at his laptop's screen, making his heart beat just a little faster.

An arm wrapped around his neck and a kiss was planted firmly on his cheek, tilting him suddenly off-kilter and glasses askew.

"_Ohayo1_ Yuuri!" Phichit chirped happily, plopping himself in the seat opposite the table where Yuuri was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant and panicking over not being able to give Viktor his birthday wish. Yuuri gave his best friend a half-hearted smile and placed his glasses firmly back on his nose, shutting his laptop with a final 'click' that seemed to say 'that is that.' It made him feel guilty, and sad.

"Uh-oh…" Phichit noticed his behavior immediately and paused his reaching hand that was about to steal a pickled plum off his plate, "Do we need to have a jog before we go to the Plaza?"

Yuuri shook his head, glad that Phichit could at least tell he was in the middle of starting to panic and offering their usual remedy before a competition. "No. It's not the competition, Phich…"

Phichit's eyes darkened slightly, his mouth beginning to pout and he sighed. It hadn't been easy for him, knowing that Yuuri was keeping what was clearly a big secret from him, when previously, Yuuri had told him everything. There weren't many details of Yuuri's life that the Thai man didn't know, perhaps some memories from childhood that simply hadn't come up in conversation, but he was so ingrained in Yuuri's day-to-day that it had been just as hard to keep things from him as it was for him to be left in the dark.

"Is it that thing you won't talk about?"

"Partly." Yuuri sighed sadly. "But mostly I was just looking at my calendar. It's… there's just a lot going on."

The other nodded, trying to be understanding, and gave a smile that was probably more forced than usual. "Well, if you need me for anything, you know I'm here for you."

"I know." Yuuri's smile was fond, and genuine this time. He pushed the pickled plumbs to Phichit's side of the table as a peace offering, which he happily accepted. It was a constant internal, and external if he counted Ciao Ciao's input, debate about how much to tell his bestie. Both of them had decided on nothing for the time being, Yuuri wanting to protect Viktor's privacy, and Celestino wanting to protect both his skaters. Yet, if Yuuri was able to make things work, if he could somehow rearrange his schedule to slip away to the wintery wonderland in Switzerland for a week, there wouldn't be any excuse good enough to give him. While Phichit knew of his friendship with Chris, it also held a professional edge to it with Chris being one of his choreographers for the last few years.

But even shoving all that to the back burner, if Yuuri was honest, he _needed_ his friend. The emotional highs and lows he'd been experiencing had been taking their sizable toll, and everyone had noticed. Yuuri's stubbornness in not revealing anything had made his parents fret and worry, Mari had been snippy with him, and then to top it all off - Yuuri had suddenly gone to Russia for a 'sponsorship' interview and returned with his face beat to hell. While Phichit had quietly done makeup for him daily, the silent stewing over it had nearly pushed Yuuri over the edge. Celestino had simply told him when things were 'over' they could elaborate more, but it was tricky to gauge exactly where that finish line lie.

"Um… Phich…" Yuuri made his own decision about it. The chasm the secrecy was creating was too much to bear. He figured that with all the information now lying in the hands of international investigators, he could at least share _some_ of what had been happening. "I'm so sorry I've been so distant lately."

"Hey, it's no problem." Phichit's smile was once again forced, belying that it was, in fact, a problem, but one he thought he should not have. "Like I said, I'm here for whatever."

"I know. And you've been," Yuuri took a breath before the emotion of his support could spill over the brim of his eyes, "You've been amazing. But… you know my trip to Russia?"

"Duh."

"Well… it… It wasn't for a sponsorship."

"Again. Duh."

Yuuri chuckled dryly and took a sip of his matcha, and Phichit adjusted his casual lounging position to sit up straighter, his face open and earnest. "Look, Yuuri, you don't have to tell me. It's tough, but… if you say you can't tell me, I trust you."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, it's that it involves more than just me… and it's not really my business to talk about it. But it's been really hard not telling you." Yuuri continued, his cinnamon eyes growing sadder as he spoke, "I have a friend in Russia that needed my help, and so I went and gave it. Some things happened, and that's how I got these bruises."

Phichit gave him an odd look, mouth twisting to the side in confusion. "Yuuri, I'm not saying that you're not amazing enough to not have all the friends… but you've never said anything about a friend from Russia - let alone one you'd disappear for right before Nationals… I'm not judging or anything, but… I guess I’m asking why haven't I heard of them before?"

Pausing, choosing his words carefully, Yuuri provided a half-truth. "Because they hadn't been in contact for a while. I can't… I can't say much more than that… but they've invited me to go visit them for a bit after Nationals, and I was trying to figure out how I could make it work."

"So… you want to go back to Russia." Phichit said skeptically, more worried than condemning. "To visit a friend who Celestino knows and I don't, and who got you beat up?"

"Not to Russia. To Switzerland."

The pause between them was pregnant as Phichit's mind raced with the new information. Yuuri could see the gears working through his head and his eyes widened. "Yuuri!" he hissed. "Did Chris get into some underground gambling trouble or something in Russia?!"

Yuuri blinked. "What?" his jaw dropped open for a beat before he started giggling. "Oh… no, that's not what it was… but this friend is now staying with Chris."

With that next bit revealed, Phichit's face fell, unable to disguise the hurt. "Oh. Um… well… if it's that important to you, I'm sure we can figure things out."

"Phich?" Yuuri asked tentatively, knowing that the fact he was being obtuse on purpose wasn't the kindest thing he could do in this situation, but he couldn't really comprehend exactly why it was this reaction he was getting.

"It's… Yuuri, I'm not mad. It's just… I guess I'm feeling a bit left out. Two really important people in your life know what's going on and I don't so it just… stings."

Yuuri was up and moving to the other side of the table immediately, Japanese customs of PDA even amongst friends be damned. Enveloping Phichit in a hug, he buried his face into the other's shoulder, catching a whiff of his alpha scent.

"Phich… our friend… he went through something big." He muttered into Phichit's shirt, "And it was awful. I haven't talked to him enough to know if he'd be okay with you knowing. I swear - that's the only reason I haven't told you. I really, really want to… but I just can't, not yet."

Phichit's arms had come up around Yuuri's back and gripped him tight with a comforting pat on his back. "Okay, Yuuri, okay… I'm just really worried about you. You've been really stressed out, and I feel really helpless here."

They released their hug and Yuuri offered the tiniest of reassuring smiles. "I know. I'm getting better with everything though, and things are looking up."

"Which is why you want to go to Switzerland."

"Yeah."

With that, Phichit's hand darted across the table and spun Yuuri's laptop around to face them, leaving Yuuri gaping at him. "Then viva la Switzerland! We're going to figure this out. But you should go get ready to go. Ciao Ciao will kill us if we're late. We can work on it while the others are performing and you're warming up."

"Phich-"

"Go!"

Yuuri couldn't help but laugh as Phichit practically shoved him out of his chair. Reluctantly, he made his way toward the restaurant's exit to go get his costume and skates. Already he was feeling much lighter and far more confident about being able to make things work.

* * *

Viktor tapped his phone screen furiously as he directed his avatar out of the way of the nefarious neighbor who was _definitely_ shady. It was just past one in the morning and he was enjoying the game that Yuuri had recommended by way of his friend, but even the distraction of the game wasn't enough to alleviate the loneliness he was acutely feeling. Which was just silly, he'd been alone the majority of the time for the last few years, and while it had been painful, he was used to it. The difference was, he guessed, that he was suddenly with people again and now the sharp contrast of being with those who cared for him versus occupying his formerly hormone addled mind.

The neighbor caught him again and he sighed as he tossed his phone onto the blankets covering his legs. It would be several hours before Chris would come in, with, he promised, a laptop and connection to watch Yuuri's short skate while they had breakfast. In all reality, he should be asleep, but he simply couldn't shake the restlessness he felt growing in the pit of his stomach.

After Yuuri had said goodnight, he was on a high for a bit. Happy to not only have contact with the one that had rescued him from his waking nightmare, but also overjoyed to feel normal for a short period of time. Texting back and forth with Yuuri had been a blast, and he felt like he'd learned so much about the younger man, and was eager to learn more.

His happiness had been short lived, however, when Doctor Durand had popped in before leaving his office for the evening. It was supposed to be just a quick check-in, but Viktor had questions that he had either thought of after their initial conversation, or had been too shy to ask in front of Chris. The good doctor had suggested, and given a referral for, a therapist after he was well enough to leave the facility. While Viktor was willing to admit there was likely a need for counseling, the idea still sat funny in his stomach. When he had admitted such, Doctor Durand had smiled indulgently, assuring him that his worries were understandable but unfounded.

Viktor still disagreed. He knew there were counselors that specialized in sexual trauma, kidnapping victims, and abuse, but he wasn't sure that would cover it all. He had been completely displaced for years, and even given the limited bit of the world he'd seen thus far, it seemed that he was still left behind, that everyone had moved forward without him. Even Chris had gotten married and retired from competitive skating and was now coaching and doing choreography. He also found out that Yakov and Lilia had gotten back together again and then subsequently split, always in love with each other but not able to make things quite click. Viktor had missed so much, and was realizing that reinserting himself into the lives of his loved ones would be more complex than simply filling the hole he'd left when he'd disappeared.

It seemed to be an insurmountable challenge, one he wasn't sure he was strong enough to conquer.

Once Doctor Durand had left, Chris had returned for the final few visiting hours, with Levin Masumi in tow. Viktor had never met him in person, that he could remember - as he had met him at the dinner he'd collapsed at before being hospitalized - and he seemed to be good, _really_ good, in fact, for Chris. It was painfully sweet to watch them interact as they had dinner together, and Levin, it turned out, was an excellent cook. Between the fig and walnut salad, the quiche and the cute macaron cookies Chris' husband had prepared, Viktor had felt more isolated than ever. He'd met and gone out with Chris' boyfriends before, but never had he felt the pangs of third-wheel syndrome 'til that night.

It was probably in part why he was so excited to see Yuuri again. A fourth person to take the pressure off of having Chris waiting on him hand and foot, trying to find a line between what Viktor could do himself and what he needed help with. Viktor knew Chris' intentions were good, and so he tried to not let it bother him, but by the third time Chris had refilled the damned plastic pink cup without giving him the chance to get out of bed and stretch his legs, Viktor was ready for them to be gone. And now that they were, all he wanted was for both of them to return as soon as possible.

Flopping back onto the extra pillows Chris had procured him from a long-suffering nurse, and absently twirled a few silver strands between his fingers. This was the first time in years he could be alone with his thoughts, his own emotions, without the stress of survival, of drug-induced fog, or being so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes in focus. He didn't like it.

For what felt like the millionth time, his eyes filled with tears, not for any particular reason - he just had not been able to stop crying in the quiet hours of the night. Biting his own tongue, he sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut tight to assuage the burning. Once the tears were more under control, he climbed out of bed and stretched his back, looking for something to occupy his hands.

He poked through all the drawers in the room, most of it was innocuous medical supplies, sanitizer, gloves, tongue depressors, individually wrapped antiseptic wipes and testing swabs. Everything was so sterile, cold and unfeeling. He pulled out a couple of gloves anyway, trying to decide if he wanted to just try them on, or if he wanted to blow them up into fat hand shaped balloons. Deciding against either, but logging the idea away of making a few balloons as a last resort, he went to the other cupboard, this one tall, and opened it. Inside was a duffle bag, one that looked vaguely familiar. Tugging it out of the plywood closet, he realized it was one of Chris' old competition bags and suddenly had no qualms about snooping through it.

Inside were the clothes he had worn when he had escaped from Ivan's apartment. Now looking at the long sleeved shirt objectively, he realized how overly large the damn thing had been on him. The pants were the same. They didn't smell the same, though. Instead they smelled of fresh laundry, but as he held them closer to his face, he could faintly, very faintly, smell his old room, Ivan's pheromones, and he gagged.

Before he could become truly sick, however, he shoved the whole outfit into the biohazard waste bin. Never mind those were the only clothes he owned, if Chris could buy him a phone, he would certainly loan him a shirt and some sweats - and if not, Viktor would simply steal a few hospital gowns rather than wear the clothes Ivan had given him. He rifled through the rest of the duffle bag, realizing it was full of hygiene items, most of which the hospital had already provided, but there, tucked into the toiletry bag, was the pink scrap of fabric he'd brought with him.

A sob had escaped his throat before he could even pick up the handkerchief. All at once, everything he'd been trying to hold back came crashing down on his shoulders. The absolute helplessness of the situation, the sorrow of years stolen, the anger and hatred he felt for himself, for Ivan, for every person who had a hand in his enslavement. And yet… and yet even behind all of that, there was also something else, something that disgusted him. The way he wasn't as angry or hating Ivan as much as, for example, the photographer or the clients who had touched him against his will. It was confusing, the way his mind tried to nearly defend his alpha, or even how he missed kissing him - even though the thought of Ivan's mouth on him churned his stomach in a violent wrench.

Viktor simply didn't understand it. Wondering if it was the mating bond that Ivan had renewed just a couple months before, or if there was something truly broken inside of him that he would never be able to fix. Clutching the scrap of fabric, he ignored the scent of his old room, and scented it thoroughly with his wrist, overwriting everything from before. Once that was done, he opened the last pocket of the duffle and his small gasp was quickly covered by a small, genuine smile. Yuuri's hat, the one that Celestino had told him to use to hide his tell-tale silver hair, carefully folded and reserved he guessed for when he would be permitted to leave the hospital.

Bringing the hat to his nose, his own scent still swirling and unsettled from the handkerchief, the two unique scents blended together in a heady mix. Yuuri's cinnamon and wooden musk adding a spice and grounding to Viktor's floral and citrus. It was intoxicating, and his head spun momentarily, as if he had just executed the fastest scratch spin he'd ever done and hadn't kept his eyes on a fixed point to steady himself. The giddiness it left behind when he pulled the knit beanie away from his face made him giggle before he realized how creepy he was being.

Guiltily, he shoved the hat back in its place, resolving to never do that again, even though he already was missing the earthy scent. Putting the duffle back into the closet so he wouldn't be further tempted and crawled back into his bed, handkerchief in hand. Absently, he held it to the light like he had so often before, tracing his thumb along the outline of the poodles and pink clouds.

Of all the emotions that had just filtered through his mind, his stomach, he now simply lay there wondering 'Where do I go from here?' A mocking voice slipped in from his subconscious, a simple answer that neatly summed everything up in a neat package: 'Forward.' He snorted at himself, his inner dialogue scorning. All he wanted was to be back to normal - whatever that meant. He supposed that normal simply wouldn't just happen. Especially since he didn't even know how to define the word for himself.

He let himself get lost in his own thoughts, the never ending cycle of what he wanted and not knowing, what he had lost and wanted to possibly regain, what lie in store in the future and the frustration of uncertainty. So deep was he in his own head, he didn't even notice the sun rising hours later, or the nurses popping in for their checks, and was only jolted from his reverie with the door slamming open to Chris and Levin piling into his room, looking as though they had brought their entire house along with them in far too many bags.

Forcing a smile, he sat up, hiding the handkerchief under his blanket, not ready to share the gravity of meaning of it with his friend quite yet.

"_Bonjour mon ami2_!" Chris sunnily gushed, dropping the bags he was holding on the floor by his bed and pressing a light kiss to Viktor's forehead in lieu of their usual _la bise3_ greeting. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good." Viktor lied, suddenly recognizing the lethargic weight of a sleepless night in his limbs, and before Chris could look too closely, he redirected. "What in the world did you bring?"

"Just a few odds and ends." Chris waved off the question, fishing out of one bag a thermos and plopping it right into Viktor's hands. "A café au lait, _chéri_, as requested."

"And a parfait and your choice of _gipfeli4_…" Levin chimed in mildly, unloading a box full of breakfast pastries and fresh yogurt cups with fruit. Where Chris was a whirlwind, Levin moved softly, gently offering the breakfast to Viktor as Chris began fiddling with the other contents of the bags.

"_Merci5, _Levin." Viktor said quietly, accepting the food and feeling his stomach begin to perk up at the sight. He spooned some berries and yogurt into his mouth and watched as Chris produced a large monitor, speakers and a laptop. Rolling the tray table to the foot of the bed, he began the complicated set up, Levin silently following his gestures that were actually requests for help, holding a cord here, plugging it in there. Viktor watched in fascination as they moved completely in sync, a perfect team even in a task as mundane as setting up a live stream.

With a start, he realized he could now send a 'good luck' text to Yuuri, and so he juggled his food and coffee into balancing on his folded knees and fished his phone out of the tangled blankets.

**To: ****L'vinoye Serdtse6 Yuuri **♡ **; 07:53**

**We'll be watching! Davai7! **♡

**From: ** **L'vinoye Serdtse Yuuri ** **♡** **; 07:53**

**Arigatou, Viktor. I hope I don't disappoint.**

Viktor frowned with his spoon hanging out of his mouth as he typed out that Yuuri could never disappoint, wondering if his self-deprecating hope was just competition nerves or something more. The sound of applause startled him as Chris swore under his breath and turned the volume down quickly to a more humane level, and another Japanese skater was just taking his bow after his program.

"When is Yuuri supposed to skate?" He asked Chris.

"Next group. I think he's second or third up." Chris smiled at him, making a few adjustments to the set up before coming and climbing into Viktor's bed. Levin took a chair next to Chris and passed his husband his breakfast before starting on his own.

"You still haven't explained how you came to be one of his choreographers. Other than the GPF or Worlds, your paths wouldn't cross much, right?" Viktor mused, stealing a blueberry from the top of Chris' parfait. To his surprise, Chris stiffened for a split second, and then forced a smile that wasn't entirely without a fond warmth.

"Actually, it was because of you. But it's not my story to tell."

* * *

Yuuri squeezed his phone tightly in his hands.

**From: Viktor <3; 15:54**

**Don't say that. You could never disappoint. Show me the skating you like best.**

"Phich… I really need to get to Switzerland." he muttered to the man beside him, who was sorting through schedules on Yuuri's laptop as Yuuri kept his hips loose.

"I'm working on it!" Phichit laughed, clicking on a few other tabs, toggling back and forth. A frown tugged at his mouth for a second and he looked up at Yuuri. "But even working on it… I can really only see maybe three days at most… including travel time."

Yuuri sighed as he lunged against the wall, hands splayed above his head, stretching and gently moving his hips side to side. One good thing about worrying about seeing Viktor was that he wasn't worrying about Viktor seeing _him._ On the ice. Live. He shoved the thought away and refocused back on his conversation. "How long is travel time?"

"At the least? Sixteen hours."

"So I'd have a day."

"Yup."

He groaned, letting his head hit the top of his hands in frustration. Of course, that was the moment Celestino walked over to check on his anxiety.

"Do you need to take a walk, Yuuri?" he asked, patting Yuuri on the shoulder. Yuuri shook his head but didn't move from his stretching position except to switch legs, keeping his forehead to the wall.

"We're trying to send him to Switzerland for Christmas." Phichit filled him in, and that got Yuuri's attention.

"Phich!"

"Well, we are!"

Yuuri shyly turned his face toward a very frowny Ciao Ciao and offered an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I was hoping to rearrange my schedule a bit so I could go visit… Chris."

"And your mysterious friend." Phichit chimed in absently, tapping away on Yuuri's laptop, and Celestino's eyes narrowed further.

_"Phich!" _

"What? Oh… I’m not supposed to know." Phichit looked slightly abashed at that. "And I don't know! I just know there's another person! Could be Buddha himself, for all I know."

Sighing, Yuuri straightened up and faced his coach properly, who was still scowling but appeared to be churning over the information in his head. "He asked for me…" Yuuri said quietly so only the two of them could hear, or, if Phichit did hear, he pretended to not. Celestino stared at him for a minute longer, and then held his large hand out to Phichit.

"Let me see the schedule."

Yuuri gaped as Phichit happily surrendered the computer over to their coach, and Celestino scrolled through all of Phichit's work, clicking his tongue every once in a while. Bouncing from toe to toe, Yuuri remained silent, exchanging a hopeful glance with his best friend. After a few minutes, Ciao Ciao snapped the computer shut and handed it back to Phichit.

"I need to make a phone call." was all he said before wandering back down the hall, adding over his shoulder, "Ten minutes Yuuri, meet me by the boards."

Yuuri paled as he slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, defeated. Phichit patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Well, it wasn't a 'no'?" He offered in hope, bringing himself to his knees. "Lay down, I'll help you stretch your glutes."

* * *

"He's going to miss it." Viktor warned Levin, not taking his eyes off the monitor now showing Kenjirō Minami giving one last sweep to thank the crowd for their roaring applause. The teen had performed wonderfully, and he had an infectious smile that Viktor found himself mimicking. Levin glanced toward the door where his omegan husband had disappeared a few minutes before, speaking in Italian. Neither of the men in the hospital room could speak the language, and so had no idea what phone call was so important for Chris to answer in a cheery '_Buongiorno8!_' and leave them to the livestream.

"If he does, I'm sure it's something he can't put off." Levin answered, earning a raised eyebrow from Viktor. But he shrugged and turned back to the screen to see Kenjirō's score, 82.35. Viktor smiled and how elated the young man was, hugging a plush 'Hello Kitty' head and kicking his feet before lunging into a hug with his coach.

"He's cute." Viktor commented and Levin chuckled.

"And from what I hear, a huge Katsuki Yuuri fan."

"Really?" Viktor beamed, happy to learn more about Yuuri, even if it was just learning about his fans. "That's so cute!"

Chris came in just as Yuuri's figure filled the screen, looking determined as he spoke with Celestino. Viktor looked closely at his face, noting that his left eye was still swollen, but it was so slight that only those that knew of the injury would notice. Other than that, his makeup was done flawlessly, covering up any remaining bruises.

Giving a small wolf whistle as he settled back into Viktor's bed, Chris laughed. "He looks good. Not so anxious."

"Does he get nervous?" Viktor asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Chris nodded with a smile. "But he's been able to handle it really well the last few competitions."

Before them, Yuuri skated a quick warm up lap, getting his feet grounded to the ice and coming to a stop in the middle of the ice. A sultry, jazzy melody came over the stadium speakers and Yuuri began. From the first movement, the routine had Chris' influence written all over it, but there was something else that Viktor didn't readily recognize. It was certainly Yuuri's own infusion of himself into the program. The way he moved was hypnotizing, and Viktor, who was about to ask about the song selection of 'Maybe This Time' from Cabaret, forgot all else.

As Yuuri moved across the whole of the ice, Viktor realized he started his program with his step sequence rather than having it in the middle like most skaters would. His hips swayed with the beat, his shoulders slack and casual, eyelids heavy and mouth slightly and lusciously open. Viktor gasped as Yuuri entered a flying camel spin, at how Yuuri's skate barely traveled, if at all, and how the pose was held so easily, but that was nothing compared to the sit spin he flawlessly went into after gliding to another part of the ice. Every muscle flex held a powerful longing, something more than just Yuuri playing the part of Sally Bowles. But it wasn't until his first triple axel in the second half that Viktor realized that was his first jump.

"All of them are in the second half?" He asked, his voice slightly breathless in sympathy for the rigorous program Chris had designed.

"_Oui._ Just watch." Chris smiled without taking his eyes off the performance.

And Viktor did, with a critical eye met with awe. Heart starting to pound, his muscles flexing in memory as Yuuri entered a quadruple lutz, triple toe combo. And then, as his finale, Viktor heard Chris gasp right before it happened, Yuuri did a quad flip, enough rotations, even if his hand touched down. Yuuri finished off with a final combo spin, starting out sitting and ending with a gorgeous Biellmann, picking up speed and momentum the longer it went as the final note was belted by Liza Minnelli. His body came to a complete and sudden stop, hands extended out, head bowed back and looking toward the ceiling with his chest heaving.

Viktor's eyes were wide, and his breath was gone until Yuuri came out of character as if the thundering applause drew him back to reality.

"He's never added a flip, has he?" Levin asked, his grin elated. Viktor's eyes turned to Chris, who was slightly teary.

"No. Not since our first program together." Chris was still a little shocked, and Viktor was trying to put two and two together when Chris turned to him. "That was for you."

Viktor's stomach leapt into his chest as he jerked his head back to the screen where Yuuri was finishing his bows and picking up an onigiri plush to take with him to the kiss and cry. Celestino and a smaller, darker skinned man greeted him on the screen. The coach was laughing and clapping a blushing Yuuri on the back. The sultry character completely gone, and Viktor saw the skater's humility and shyness after completing such an amazing short program. It was as if he wasn't used to the positive attention, and the song was beginning to make sense.

"Yuuri really fought to get to where he is, didn't he?" Viktor asked but it really wasn't a question.

"He did." Chris was watching his reaction carefully, slowly continuing before the scores could be posted. "You'll have plenty of time to ask him about it though."

"What?" That got Viktor's attention, and he turned to his best friend, Levin leaning forward to look at the blond curiously.

"That was what my phone call was about. Celestino asked me to be his assistant coach. Yuuri is going to be based here until Four Continents. Possibly until South Korea."

"What!?" Viktor yelped, butterflies that had been bubbling since Yuuri took the ice, or perhaps even since he found Yuuri's hat, were now trying their damnedest to escape via his throat. "Are you serious?"

"If Yuuri wants to, yes. Celestino hasn't told him yet." Chris was grinning smugly, then addressed his husband, "So you'd better be ready for us to have another roommate here soon, _mon amour_. We'll have to prepare the office as a second guest room."

Levin laughed and nodded. "Of course we will."

"That is," Chris continued, "If you're okay with that, Vitya?"

Viktor was too stuck in his head to answer immediately, but the roaring applause from the speakers grabbed his attention. Yuuri had scored an astounding 97.8 and his two companions were congratulating him enthusiastically while Yuuri squinted at the scores in disbelief. A smile spread across Viktor's face as he looked at how adorable Yuuri was on the screen.

"I'll love it."

* * *

**From: Viktor**♡**; 18:34**

**Make sure to bring your gold medal? I'd like to see it, if you don't mind. **

Yuuri flushed for the millionth time as he opened Viktor's message. Said gold medal was currently tucked in his carryon bag under his seat. Flight attendants were bustling around him and Phichit readying the plane for takeoff. He quickly pounded out a response, promising to bring it along to Switzerland on his flight that would be leaving in a little less than fourteen hours. He had a lot of packing to do overnight, with Phichit's and Mari's help, and then he would be off to Europe to finish out his training for the season.

When Celestino had told him after his short program, he had nearly melted on the spot, his knees buckling before Phichit had caught him with a laugh. The next day had been busy with practice, press interviews, and frantically calling Mari and his parents to break the news to them that he wasn't returning to Detroit but rather going to a completely new location for coaching. Mari had promised to start compiling his things, helping him with laundry and other odds and ends while he was finishing out his competition. Their original plan had been to leave for the United States after New Years, and Celestino and Phichit were still sticking to that plan - it was Yuuri who was upending everything. Again.

"Don't worry, Yuuri. We'll get everything all settled and packed really fast, and anything you might forget, Ciao Ciao and I will ship to you." Phichit broke him from his thoughts as the captain announced their departure for Fukuoka.

"This is crazy…" Yuuri muttered to himself and Phichit snorted.

"Crazier than getting beat up in Russia?"

Yuuri couldn't help but crack a smile at that. If only Phichit knew just how insane it had been in Moscow, but he still hadn't explained everything, wanting to talk to Viktor in person before revealing anything more to Phichit. But as crazy as that experience had been, as emotional and hurtful, the fact he was moving temporarily to Switzerland to train with Viktor Nikiforov by his side was just as ludicrous, but in all the best ways. He likely wouldn't be able to believe it until he was actually there.

As the plane took off on the short two hour flight, Phichit pulled out his PS Vita and began playing some sort of dating simulation game, and Yuuri was left to his thoughts and memories of the day he'd just had. His muscles were still a little sore from putting everything into his free skate just a few hours prior. He didn't break any world records this time, but his combination score had been up there with one of his best, and then a drawn out medal ceremony, a whirlwind of quick interviews before Celestino had whisked him out of them, citing Yuuri not feeling the greatest. It lent credence to why Yuuri had withdrawn from the exhibition gala the next day, Celestino submitting that Yuuri had the flu, but remaining in Tokyo himself for any remaining interviews as his skater took time to get better. But if Yuuri was nauseous, it wasn't from any sort of virus. Nerves on par with his pre-competition anxiety were jumbling everything in his head, wondering how everything would work.

Celestino had claimed to take care of everything, telling him that there were ISU sanctioned doctors in Switzerland that would take care of any physicals and drug tests, that his photo shoots for the upcoming Olympic games could be pushed back to after Four Continents, and then all press could be done remotely - with Chris promising a strong internet connection and excellent cellular service. But all of that was background compared to who was waiting for him in Geneva.

Viktor had been released from the hospital, with the doctor telling him he would be a bit weak for a while, and, other than being malnourished, he had a clean bill of health with a few check ups scheduled in a couple weeks.

Every chance Yuuri got, he was texting Viktor, who seemed happy to engage in as much or little conversation as Yuuri offered. He'd laughed at Viktor's frustration with his mobile games, having been stuck on the same level of Candy Crush for the last day or so, and not being able to get past a point in the game Phichit had recommended. Viktor had also told him of his plans to drag Chris shopping, and now Yuuri was also included in those plans after jetlag had worn away. The way Viktor talked was so casual, like they'd been friends for years and they were simply planning a fun vacation together, rather than having just met in person, briefly, twice. It simultaneously settled and riled Yuuri.

How Viktor was so calm, he didn't know, but he supposed it was a little similar to how the auction wasn't ever far from his mind. He'd be fine one moment, and then in the next quiet second, he'd be starting to shake as flashes of the awful memories would rudely invade before he had a chance to shut them down. Yuuri was grateful for the last few days, as he'd been almost too busy to even think about it, and Viktor's texts were an excellent distraction. Yet it all still lingered in the shadows, waiting to coil around him like a venomous snake.

Taking out his phone, he tried to distract himself by reading a few digitized manga he'd downloaded specifically for traveling. It wasn't long before he was dozing, and seemed an even shorter time for the pilot to come over the sound system to announce their descent into Fukuoka.

After landing and rushing to the train for the next part of their journey, they arrived in Hasetsu as the clock inched its way toward the next day. And it wasn't over yet. A very tired Minako picked them up from the train station, and shuttled them to Yutopia Katsuki where Mari was waiting outside with a cigarette hanging from between her fingers.

Yuuri was dead on his feet as the three of them entered his room and began pulling out the larger of his suitcases. Mari had already laundered most of his clothing that he'd brought with him from Detroit, with a final load drying as they packed. Yuuri nearly panicked as Phichit started eyeing his posters of Viktor that were in a desk drawer, asking which he'd like to take with him to Geneva. Thankfully, Phichit didn't ask why he'd taken them down in the first place.

"Um… I think I'll leave them here." Yuuri said shyly, turning so his friend wouldn't read anything into his blushing cheeks. "I'll only be there for a little while, and I don't want to ruin Chris' walls."

Phichit snorted, "I doubt he'd care. Do you want me to send you any from Detroit?"

"That's okay." Yuuri said over his shoulder, his red cheeks finally under control. Phichit eyed him suspiciously, and so he added quickly, "If I need inspiration, I'll just put a picture as my wallpaper on my phone or something."

_Or just talk to Viktor,_ he added to himself, and then shook the thought out of his mind.

"I don't think I've ever seen your walls this empty." Mari chimed in as she folded a few shirts, "Did you outgrow your crush or what?"

Of course his sister wouldn't shy away from the topic. Yuuri swallowed, "I… I just thought it was time to take them down."

It wasn't strictly a lie, he supposed. But he simply couldn't explain how he'd felt as though he was exploiting Viktor by having them up, especially after seeing the photos Ivan had forced him to take. It left him wondering how many of the posters Viktor had not wanted to be made, even if they were all taken during his reign as world champion through his junior and senior years. He was likely off base in the assumption, knowing first hand that Kenjirō Minami had a poster of him that the teen had asked him to sign a few competitions ago. The only posters that bother him were the ones that were plastered all over Hasetsu's train station, but that was just because it was odd seeing his own face first thing after disembarking from the train. The pictures themselves didn't offend him.

Before either of them could ask anything more about it, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, and then returned a few moments later. Mari and Phichit were both laughing about the antics of a drunk customer who had tried to match Minako drink for drink a few days prior during the onsen's viewing of Yuuri's short program. The subject wasn't brought up again.

After catching far too few hours of sleep, Phichit was bouncing him awake. Endless energy always exuded from him, and Yuuri simply couldn't understand it. His mother and father were awake already, making early preparations for the breakfast crowd of the inn. They all had a quick breakfast together, and Yuuri hugged them tight before Phichit announced that Minako was there again, this time to take them to the train station.

Yuuri was silent as Phichit talked almost non-stop to Minako, and Yuuri was grateful. He was the grumpy sort of tired, and he knew he'd need to catch as much sleep on the flight from Osaka to Munich as possible if he were to be any kind of presentable to his hosts and Viktor by the time he got there. He dozed against Phichit on the train back to Fukuoka, who happily let him and took many selfies for friendly blackmail later. Yuuri was too tired to care.

Phichit helped him check his bags and made sure his boarding pass was in his coat pocket for easy access through the terminal and sent him through security with his carry on luggage. Yuuri was practically in a daze as he went through the normal procedures and checks, and was soon at his gate where he was informed that his seat was actually in first class. Grumbling at the needless expense, but grateful to Chris for his thoughtfulness, he settled into his seat as one of the first to board. In a little more than sixteen hours, he'd be landing in Geneva, just in time to have a birthday dinner for Viktor.

**To: Viktor**♡**; 07:47**

**Just boarded. I'm on my way!**

**From: Viktor**♡**; 07:48**

**!!! See you soon! **♡♡♡

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Ohayo_ \- Good morning (Japanese)  
2\. _Bonjour mon ami_ \- Good morning my friend! (French)  
3\. _la bise_ \- the double/triple kiss on the cheeks in greeting  
4\. _gipfeli_ \- croissant (Swiss German)  
5\. _Merci_ \- Thank you (French)  
6\. _L'vinoye Serdtse_ \- Lion Heart (Russian)  
7\. _Davai!_ \- Let's go or come on! (Russian)  
8\. _Buongiorno_ \- Good morning (Italian)
> 
> ### Author's Note
> 
> A bit of a breather chapter, I think. Sorry nothing terribly exciting happens here other than Yuuri winning Gold, and even then I glossed over that... Sorry if this is terribly boring! I just wanted to explain more where both of them were at along with their friends. Next up: Viktor's Birthday!!! I think we all deserve something more on the fluffy side of the fluff/angst scale. ^^ I'll try to post it in time for his birthday, but might be a little late. (Translation: Probably, most likely, WILL be a little late, but GANBATTE!)
> 
> And if you are celebrating any holidays in these last few weeks of the year, I hope it is/was a lovely time for you. <3 <3 <3


	9. I'll Be Home at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maybe this time, I'll be lucky_   
_Maybe this time, he'll stay_   
_Maybe this time_   
_For the first time_   
_Love won't hurry away_   
_He will hold me fast_   
_I'll be home at last_   
_Not a loser anymore_   
_Like the last time_   
_And the time before_
> 
> _~Maybe This Time, Liza Minnelli_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
Not-a-one

Viktor bounced in the car nervously, breath exiting harshly through his nose as he tried to calm himself. The airport was looming above them, and the roar of airplanes ascending freely into the sky was just _so loud._ Shoving his hand into his track pants that Chris had loaned him, he curled his fingers around his handkerchief and forced a deep breath. It didn't help.

It especially didn't help when he saw all the people. There were just so many of them. Eyes widened as he viewed the throngs entering and exiting the doors, bustling to either their cars that were waiting, or clearly stressed at the prospect of air travel and time tables that were cutting it far too close for comfort.

"Oh, it doesn't seem as busy as I thought it'd be." Chris mused aloud to himself as Levin navigated the parking lot and Viktor paled. _This_ wasn't a busy day? Viktor tried to remember all the airports he'd traveled to, how it was easy to maneuver through the crowd, laughing easily and carefree. He must have been crazy, or perhaps he was just crazy now.

Leaning forward, he curled a trembling hand over Chris' shoulder and gave him a pleading look. Pleading for what, he wasn't sure, he just wanted it to be quiet, he didn't want to go where all the people were, but he desperately wanted to see Yuuri.

"Vitya?"

Through a too-tight throat, Viktor wheezed out, "T-too much."

"Too much what?" Chris asked worriedly, his hand covering Viktor's.

"_People._"

Chris' olive eyes blinked as it all seemed to click, but Viktor didn't know why.

"Okay, okay…" Chris' voice was low and soothing, he lifted his wrist to Viktor's cheek and brushed it close to his nose. Rosemary filled his senses and Viktor's next deep breath actually worked to calm his pounding heart and scattered mind. "I can go pick up Yuuri if you need to stay in the car. Lev?"

"That's okay with me, unless you'd rather me go get Yuuri?" Levin nodded with a kind smile.

Viktor's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. It shouldn't be this hard. It was just walking into a building, it was just people… but even that thought made his stomach clench. Going inside would be impossible.

"H-has Yuuri met you?" Viktor managed out, and Levin nodded.

"A few times, but I've also been on a few video calls with him and Chris."

Viktor looked at Chris imploringly and Chris smiled at Levin. "I'll stay. You go get our little darling."

Levin just smiled his acceptance and exited the car, leaving the keys in case they decided to turn on the heater in the wintry Swiss weather. As the door shut, Viktor let tears start to form in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, nope. You don't get to apologize for getting nervous, Vitya. You haven't been in a lot of crowds lately. You're okay." The Swiss man was rummaging in the front seat for something, and then pulled a fresh water bottle out of his satchel bag. Viktor accepted it gratefully and took a deep drink, the coolness of the liquid soothing his throat and humiliated cheeks.

"Thank you." Viktor murmured, his voice already stronger and body calming now that he was able to stay in the safe confines of the car. Leaning back in his seat, he grimaced bitterly. "I suppose shopping is out, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily." Chris hummed. "There's plenty of quiet stores to go to. And you need clothes. I want my pants back."

Viktor chuckled and took another sip of water, looking out the window toward the building. It didn't seem so nefarious now that he didn't have to venture into it. He checked his phone again, seeing if Yuuri had texted again since landing, but there was nothing new. It would probably take him a little while to get through customs and then make his way to baggage claim.

"What do you want to do tonight, _mon cher_?" a voice drifted from the front seat and Viktor shrugged a shoulder with a small smile.

"I'm just glad to be here with you and your husband, and to get the chance to get to know Yuuri more." Viktor curled his long legs in front of him, feet on the seat as he continued to look out the window. "So… can we just stay in tonight?"

"_Oui, _of course. I'm glad you're here too." Chris grinned at him, eyes shining. Viktor returned the grin, his own eyes misting over. "I really missed you, _chéri_."

"I missed you too." Viktor leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Chris' cheek, then flicked his ear and sniffed. "Stop making me cry. I'll ruin my makeup."

Chris snorted, tugging on his earlobe. "You're not wearing any."

"Then don’t make my eyes puffy!" Viktor retorted with a laugh, "I want to look better than the last time I saw Yuuri…"

"He'll be here soon." The other promised, fiddling with the heating controls and the Bluetooth music. "I'm sure Lev will text once's he's got him."

They both sat in comfortable, warm silence as they waited, jazz playing quietly over the radio. Viktor scrolled through his phone, responding to a few texts from Yakov about how he was doing and grinning over a selfie that Yuri Plisetsky had sent as he posed with Makkachin and his cat Potya. He was glad to have contact with them both, even if Yuri's texts were sparse and mostly made up of emojis and random pictures of food or things he was doing with his boyfriend Otabek. It was like the boy didn't really know what to say, but still wanted to have a connection. Viktor didn't mind.

He traced the outlines of his dog wistfully, happy to see her even if she looked far older than he remembered. Her coat wasn't as vibrant of a brown, gray tinging the edges. Part of him wanted to go to St. Petersburg and collect her, but he also didn't have any desire to return to Russia just yet, and no one there would have time to bring her to him. He would simply have to wait a little while longer before seeing his precious dog again. In the meantime, the pictures would have to be enough.

Chris' phone buzzed and Viktor looked up at him hopefully.

"They're coming out now."

Viktor yelped his excitement and pulled his coat on, clambering out of the car as Chris laughed from behind him. The sky was covered in gray winter clouds, and it was cold, but not nearly as cold as Russia in December. Even so, Viktor tightened the coat around his frame as Chris came to stand next to him cleaning his round glasses. They didn't have to wait long. Levin's tall figure emerged from between a row of vehicles with a large and smaller suitcase in tow in either hand. Yuuri trailed along behind him with another large piece of luggage and a messenger bag over one hip, and he looked far different from when Viktor had seen him, either on screen or in person.

A fringe of dark hair fluttered against his forehead instead of slicked back and he was wearing blue rimmed glasses, Viktor hadn't known Yuuri wore glasses. A medical mask sat over the lower half of his face. Viktor raised his eyebrow in concern, wondering if the statement his coach had given the press about him having the flu wasn't entirely a lie. But Yuuri hadn't said anything about feeling unwell. Perhaps he simply wasn't one to tell others when something was wrong?

Chris grinned and started forward, and Viktor followed nervously. Now that they were actually meeting, not in a sweat-smelling locker room or in his prison, and he was actually clear headed, he felt jitters throughout his body. Excitement won out, however, and he couldn't help but smile in spite of all else.

"_Mon petite chou!_" Chris enthused in greeting, kissing Yuuri's cheeks three times before pulling the larger of Yuuri's load into his own hand before Yuuri could pull it away from him. "How were your flights?"

Yuuri smiled up at Chris and, with his now free hand, tugged the mask off his nose and mouth. "A lot better than I was expecting. Thank you for upgrading my ticket. I'll pay you back…"

"Nonsense." Levin interrupted gently, and Chris nodded in determinate agreement. "We're very happy to have you."

"Thank you…" Yuuri blushed and then glanced over at Viktor with a shy smile.

"Hello, Yuuri!" Viktor grinned at him and Chris and Levin conveniently continued to the car, leaving them standing a little ways apart. "Are you feeling okay?"

Yuuri blinked at Viktor's concern, eyebrow rising, "… Yes? I feel fine. Why?"

Viktor gestured toward his own face along his jaw, "The medical mask."

"Oh!" Yuuri quickly removed the whole thing, crumpling it up into his pocket. "That's more so I don't catch anything from being on a plane. I'm not sick."

"Good!" Viktor's hand shot out and he pulled Yuuri's carry on suitcase from his grip, and Yuuri made a squawk of protest. Ignoring it, he began leading Yuuri the final few feet back to the car where Levin and Chris were packing in the other suitcases in the back, "I'm really excited you're here!"

"M-me too." Yuuri agreed through another flush of his cheeks. In his chest, Viktor's heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Surreal isn't a feeling that Yuuri experienced often, perhaps he'd had the odd out of body experience when he had stood on the Olympic podium in Sochi four years prior. Now, however, having Viktor helping him unpack and settle into the office-turned-guest room in Chris and Levin's apartment, he was having to redefine the word.

Viktor freaking Nikiforov was handing him his underwear like it was the most normal thing in the world. Yuuri was sure he'd died, but whether he was in heaven or hell, he wasn't sure. Heaven wouldn't be so cruel, and hell certainly wouldn't allow him the grace of being with is idol in the same room. He was only sure that the sound he made wasn't from any living human, though, as he shut _that_ suitcase.

"I-I'll unpack that one later." He murmured under a blood-red face, head bowed and resting on the top of the luggage that sat between them, and Viktor paused and burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Yuuri." he said, still grinning but, thankfully, moving on to the next case. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Yuuri couldn't think of anything to say to that, because of course he was embarrassed, but it was more over his own involuntary behavior than the fact that Viktor had seen his under things. Hell, it wasn't even the first time he'd seen them - if Yuuri thought back to Ivan's apartment and changing into _Viktor's _robe in _Viktor's_ room. But that was then, and _this_ was… different.

But before he could apologize for acting like the world's strangest human, Viktor seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he continued in a softer tone. "Yuuri… I'm truly sorry for getting you involved with Vanya. I know I wasn't thinking very clearly, but that's still no excuse to put you in that kind of danger."

Peeking through his lashes, Yuuri realized that Viktor wasn't even looking at him, was looking down at his hands cradled in his lap as he sat cross legged on the floor.

"Viktor…" Yuuri began, pushing the suitcase out of the way and scooting forward to kneel next to the other man. "You really didn't have a choice. You saw a possible way out and took a very big risk. Please don't blame yourself. If anything, you should be proud of yourself for being brave enough to try to get out."

"But so many people got involved, and could have been hurt… and you actually did get hurt. I'm grateful for the help, but…"

Yuuri gently reached out and took his hand with a reassuring squeeze, clasping it the same way he had in the bathroom when Viktor had broken down in tears. "We all need help sometimes." he said mildly with a smile. "It's okay. And everything turned out alright."

Cerulean eyes were on his face now, and Viktor lifted his free hand and timidly touched Yuuri's cheek right below the healing bruise he'd left. The skin surrounding his eye was still a little discolored, but the yellow was fading.

"Did it hurt?" he whispered, and Yuuri's breath caught in his chest as Viktor's fingers examined just under where his lip had been split. The cut had healed quickly with Phichit's regimen of ice compresses and Vaseline, and Yuuri was grateful that it didn't scar. He, and Viktor, didn't need a physical reminder of that night written on his face.

"A little. But a couple of pain killers took care of it."

Viktor smiled at him sadly and let his hand drop. "I have so many questions…"

Gulping, Yuuri nodded and tried to ignore the anxious bubble of his stomach. He knew this would be coming, Viktor had said as much but had wanted to wait until they were face to face to have the conversation. Yuuri had questions for him too, but he wasn't sure he would be able to put aside his nerves to ask. "O-okay."

Squeezing his hand before pulling it away, Viktor's smile brightened a little as he curled his knees to his chest and rocked back on his hips. "We can wait. I don't want to ask Chris and Levin to push back dinner plans, and I’m sure you're hungry." he chuckled, "And I'm going to play the birthday card. I don't want to talk about Vanya any more tonight. I just want to be happy with my friends."

Yuuri was sure the relief spreading through his shoulders was visible on his face too as he met Viktor's chuckle with his own smile. "That actually reminds me…" he pulled himself up to kneel on his knees and pulled his messenger bag from the bed, opening the flap. "First…" Yuuri's cheeks pinked as he pulled a bundle out of the side pocket. It was his medal from Nationals and it almost felt a little bit too much like bragging to be showing it to Viktor, but as he'd asked to see it, he forced his hands to present the cloth that was tied around the award in a neat bow. "Y-you asked me to bring it."

There wasn't any way that Yuuri would ever get used to the way Viktor's eyes shone when he was excited about something. He'd already seen it twice, when Chris had suggested a shopping trip on the drive back to the apartment from the airport, and then again when Levin suggested a quiet dinner in with board games and a birthday cake for them to celebrate. And here it was a third time as Viktor took the medal and carefully unwrapped it so he could examine it.

"Wow!" he was beaming and Yuuri had to fight down the next wave of blood threatening to flood his face, especially as Viktor unfurled the white ribbon lined in red and placed it around Yuuri's neck, holding the medal so it gleamed in the light of the room. "I loved your programs, Yuuri. You're an amazing performer. I was entranced…"

And that did it, Yuuri's face was the same color as the big red circle on his nation's flag. "I-I'm just a dime a dozen skater for Japan. You're the one that's an amazing performer." he mumbled and Viktor clicked his tongue.

"Yuurri~…" Viktor bemoaned, drawing out his name wistfully. "I was good, yes, but you're easily one of the best in the world. Unless your Wikipedia page was lying about your Olympic medal?"

His cinnamon eyes widened in horror and awe that Viktor had looked him up, and he cleared his throat before he could squeak about the implication that Viktor might have actually watched his Olympic routines. "I have something else for you!" he blurted out, tactlessly changing the subject and pulling out a second box from his bag, presenting it to Viktor with both hands. "_Otanjōbi ometedō gozaimasu1… _H-happy Birthday, Viktor._"_

Viktor's eyes shone for the fourth time as he took the box with a happy laugh. "Gingerbread! Yuuri, thank you!" He lifted the package of prettily decorated cookies in various winter shapes to his nose and took a deep breath at the seam of the shrink wrap. "It's smells delicious. We'll have to have some after dinner!"

"Have some what?" a voice came from above them near the door, and Chris walked in with an apron on over his clothes. Viktor turned to him and scrambled to his feet to show off his gift.

"Look what Yuuri brought me!" he gushed excitedly, and Chris' eyes lit up from behind his round glasses.

"_Lebkuchen!2_" He laughed, as he looked at the packaging, "Yuuri, did you pick this up at the airport in Munich?"

Nodding, Yuuri got to his feet and took his gold medal off his neck, wrapping it carefully again. "I didn't have time to shop for a proper gift, so when I saw it I thought Viktor might like it."

"I'll love it, I'm sure." Viktor beamed as Chris passed the box of cookies back to him.

"Dinner is ready," Chris smiled at them and winked at Viktor, "You'll have to forgive us. We're not good at making Russian food."

* * *

Viktor found he rather liked watching Yuuri's reactions to everything. From his constant blushing, his hands waving in front of him bashfully in light of a compliment, or his soft smile when he found something sweet or endearing. They'd only picked him up a few hours prior, but it was enough time for Viktor to decide that the man was absolutely _adorable._ He was so gentle in everything he did. His protector. His savior.

Throughout dinner, which was an amazing spread of his favorite _golubtsy3_, rye bread, _pelmini4_, and a cucumber and radish salad - all of which was delicious, despite Chris' claims that Russian food wasn't their strongest cuisine - Chris and Levin had kept the conversation flowing between all of them seamlessly. Telling nostalgic memories of pranks pulled at competitions, how they had met at the 2014 Sochi Olympics, childhood stories of Christmas traditions and embarrassing birthday tales. Yuuri had joined in, telling some of his own of his and Phichit's Christmas antics in Detroit - and how both of them had nearly driven Celestino to balding with attempting some tricky pairs lifts during practice. Viktor loved every minute of it, shoving any wistful pangs of wishing he'd been around for the last five years aside to dwell on later.

Now, they were all piled in the living area. Yuuri and he sharing the couch with their own blankets and Chris perched on Levin's lap with his legs dangling off the armrest, all of them nursing some non-alcoholic mulled cider. As Doctor Durand had suggested not having anything that would alter the chemical state of his mind for a while, and everyone was happy to not imbibe in solidarity. Yuuri and Chris were idly chatting about their training schedule, Chris being able to easily schedule ice time at the rink he and Levin worked at, and Viktor was listening with a content smile on his face.

The whole apartment was decked out in holiday décor. A tree draped with ribbons, soft feathered birds, baubles and beads, and gold plated ornaments that proclaimed greetings for the season in various languages glowed warmly near the mantle, beneath the mantle was a lit fireplace with soft crackling and pops as the wood settled into glowing embers, lit garlands framed every valance above the windows, and Levin had turned on the radio which was playing gentle carols. The whole scene was very domestic and calm, and Viktor loved it. He'd never minded his birthday being when it was, though, he thought, it might have been because he'd never had to share his birthday in Russia as they celebrated Christmas in the first week of January. He actually quite enjoyed that the entire world seemed to be decorated, and so when he'd visit other countries, it was almost as though they were celebrating right along with him.

"Vitya? Would you like to join us at the rink?" Chris asked him, pulling him from his idle thoughts. He hummed, considering the idea. Yuuri smiled at him encouragingly, but was blushing again and Viktor wondered why he was always so shy about Viktor seeing him skate. Yuuri was just so _good_ that it didn't make any sense to him.

"Are you okay if I'm there, Yuuri?" he had to ask. Yuuri blinked quickly and nodded.

"_Hai_! I mean… if it's something you want to do, then you should."

Viktor thought for a second longer, before slowly nodding. "If it's not too busy… I don't want to get nervous around people again." he said softly and Chris smiled kindly at him.

"It might be just the thing for you. It's not terribly crowded during practice times, but it could help you get used to being out more. You can even practice on your own, if you want. The ice is definitely big enough for all of us."

Viktor paled at that. He hadn't been on the ice in five years. Part of him wanted nothing more than to feel the ice beneath his skates again, - to hear the blades carving his path, the scrape of metal against the surface, to see the white trail of marks left behind him. But he knew full well his ankle hadn't healed properly, Ivan had seen to that, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to skate when he wouldn't be able to do what he had once been able, had excelled at, had been lauded and celebrated.

"I think I'll be happy enough to watch." He forced a smile, but at Chris' face twisting into concern, he continued to soften the blow, "At least for now."

An awkward silence settled over them for a split second, Viktor not wanting to offer any more explanation than that, and Levin gave his gentle smile and nudged Chris's cheek with a kiss to break the stifling atmosphere.

"_Mon colibri,_ why don't you go get the gifts, and I'll go prepare dessert?"

"Oh! Yes, please continue with your normal traditions." Viktor encouraged with a wide smile. "Don't change things on my account."

Chris chuckled as he swung his legs off of his husband's lap and stood, "We already exchanged our gifts last night. I'm surprised we didn't wake you, _mon cher. _It was _quite_ a sexy celebration."

Viktor laughed openly and Yuuri snorted into his mug of cider, which in turn made the married couple laugh along with him as they each set about their appointed tasks. Offering Yuuri a napkin with a grin, Viktor gently wiped the man's cheek where some of the cider had landed with another as he wiped off his fingers, and Viktor wondered what it would feel like to twine his long pale fingers in Yuuri's darker ones. Just the thought of it made his hands tingle.

"I'll never get used to Chris' jokes…" he muttered, ears turning red again.

"Oh, I don't think he was joking." Viktor giggled and Yuuri shook his head with a smile. "You know, he said that you both became friends because of me, but said that I had to ask you about it."

"Oh… um…" Yuuri's gaze shifted from Viktor's face to the tree and then back, "H-he's right. I mean, I had met him on the circuit… but we really didn't start talking until after… you retired."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, but turned his body toward Yuuri, encouraging him to continue, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head in his hand, knees folding beneath him.

"At World's that year, he met with Phichit and asked where I was and I guess they talked about how my season had not… ended well. I came in last place at the GPF and messed up really badly at Nationals, so I wasn't seeded for that competition. Phich mentioned that I was still trying to decide what to do, if I was going to retire, and Chris I guess didn't like that idea, so he reached out to me." Yuuri explained and paused to take a breath.

"What does that have to do with me?" Viktor asked softly.

"Well… I asked him if he'd heard from you, and of course he hadn't, and… at that point e-everyone thought that it was because… because you'd been so upset over your injury that you weren't reachable. But Chris didn't think so. He thought something was very wrong," Viktor's heart clenched as Yuuri spoke, imagining the rumors that had floated around regarding his disappearance, "And he and Yakov were searching and doing everything they could to find you, b-but he told me that he was going to dedicate his next season to you, a-and… I told him I'd like to do the same. S-so his theme was 'Friendship' and mine was… was 'Inspiration.' And Chris helped to choreograph both of my programs."

Yuuri folded his knees up to his chest, unable to look at him, eyes fixed on the glowing lights on the tree. Viktor's breath was hitched in his throat as he took in the information. Rubbing his forehead, he tangled his fingers in his hair, fighting back tears.

"Why..?" he breathed out finally.

"I-… um… I've always been a fan of yours. I first saw you skate when I was a kid, and I thought you were so amazing that I knew I wanted to skate competitively too, so… I guess you could say I owe my career to you?" Yuuri finished shyly, finally turning his head to peek at Viktor through his dark lashes. Viktor's lungs finally remembered their function and he breathed in sharply, not knowing what to say.

"Wow…" he pushed his air out through his mouth steadily, and then the corners of his mouth quirked up, "I wish I could have seen it."

"… You didn't look it up?" Yuuri seemed surprised and Viktor shook his head, still trying to get his eyes under control.

"I didn’t watch any of your skates, yet. I wanted the first time I saw it to be live… I don't remember much of your performance at Rostelecom, just that it was beautiful." And when Yuuri flushed once again, Viktor couldn't help but tease. "Is that why you're so shy about me watching you skate? Because you're… you were a fan?"

"Yeah." Yuuri admitted quietly, "I don't think I'll ever be able to match up to you…" And then his eyes widened as he realized what he had just said, and then did that thing where he waved his hands in front of him as he spoke hurriedly - which only made Viktor's smile grow, "I mean! Not that I think I could _ever_ be as good as you… I just… I just wanted to be good enough."

Viktor hummed his laugh, "Yuuri, you're all set to win a second Olympic medal. I only ever won one. You're already better than me."

"But you would have. I probably wouldn't have won mine if you'd still been competing."

"Perhaps." Viktor sighed, but he was still smiling at him, and Yuuri returned it shyly. Hesitating, Viktor moved his legs to the floor and then lunged and enveloped Yuuri in a tight hug, who yelped in surprise before wrapping his own arms around Viktor's shoulders. From their position, Yuuri's scent flooded his senses, warming him to his toes. "Thank you, Yuuri… It seems you always had faith in me… Even if I didn't know it."

Yuuri's arms tightened slightly before they both leaned back and Viktor resettled on the couch, this time just a bit closer to each other. "I just wanted to thank you for inspiring me…" Yuuri mumbled, looking up to Viktor's face and both of them broke out into soft chuckles.

A second later, Chris re-entered the room, a stack of gifts perched precariously in his arms and Yuuri jumped up to help him. And to Viktor's surprise, all of them save one were plopped at his feet.

"All of these are for me?" Viktor stared wide eyed and Chris nodded.

"Except this one. This one is for Yuuri." Chris handed the last one to Yuuri and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek faster than Yuuri could dodge it. Viktor felt an odd twinge of jealousy flip in his chest, but he shoved it away. "_Joyeux Noël5 mon petite chou._"

"_Arigato_ Chris." Yuuri replied with a smile and then paused. "One second… I have something for you and Levin too."

Yuuri set his gift down on his seat and then hurried to his room. Viktor took the opportunity to stand and fling his arms around Chris' shoulders, who just laughed and returned the embrace.

"I promise it isn't much. Lev and I just like wrapping presents. It probably could have been condensed into two." He pat Viktor on the back happily and Viktor refused to let go even as Chris made to step back, thinking the hug was going to be just a quick one.

"Yuuri told me about the programs you skated for me." Viktor murmured into his shoulder and Chris froze for a second before squeezing him tighter. "Thank you Chris… You've always been the best friend anyone could ever have."

Chris was silent for a beat and shook his head dismissively. "I had hoped… I hoped you'd see them and find a way to communicate with us. I knew you hadn't just disappeared without a word, without Makka."

"No…" Viktor's one word was full of everything unspoken, of how there wasn't any way he would have been able to communicate even if he had seen the programs performed. Ivan had ensured he had no connection with the outside world except for on his terms. But to move past it lest he start crying all over again, he just scoffed, "If I were going to disappear on my terms… I probably would have run away to here."

"True." Chris laughed and they stepped apart. "And you are always welcome here, _chéri_. Then, and now."

He pat Viktor on the cheek affectionately and then pointed to the pile of gifts. "You'd better get started on those. I'm going to see what's taking my beloved husband so long. How hard is it to put candles on a cake?"

Viktor giggled and he sat back down, but he didn't start opening the presents, not wanting to start without the others. Yuuri came back out of his room and curled up on the couch next to him again, his own gift on his lap and another box that was wrapped in a cloth.

The lights overhead were suddenly flicked off, leaving them in the light of the fire and holiday lights, and Levin came into the room holding a cake littered with lit candles, Chris trailing behind with plates and serving utensils. Levin placed the cake on the coffee table and started singing the birthday song in French. Chris joined in with his own German flare and Yuuri stuttered at first in Japanese with the other two foreign languages but then found his groove, Viktor giggled and started in Russian and all four of them were in breathless laughter by the last line, unable to finish the song.

"That was wonderfully terrible." Viktor grinned as they calmed down and Levin pushed the cake toward him.

"And the candles will ruin the frosting if you let them go much longer." He told him and Viktor took a long, dramatic inhale, but was halted in blowing out the candles with Chris' teasing.

"Pucker up, buttercup."

Viktor lost it, collapsing in a fit of laughter against the couch, and unable to regain enough breath to put out the tiny flames, despite a trying a couple times. "Yuuri, help!" he begged through a forming stitch in his side. Yuuri laughed and knelt next to the table and blew out the candles for him. Levin moved to the wall to turn back on the lights as his husband plopped next to Viktor and rubbed his back, all of them grinning like blissfully happy fools.

After the cake was cut and served, Viktor brought out the gingerbread that Yuuri had given him and they all munched on them happily - Yuuri only taking the smallest sliver of cake and one cookie since he was still on his competition diet. Yuuri gave the married couple the gift he'd brought for them, a set of pewter and gold sake cups and a carafe, shyly explaining he had picked it up in his hometown far before he'd known he'd be coming.

Viktor continued eating his cake as he started in on the pile of presents, taking bites between tearing elaborate paper and placing bows on everyone's heads, including Chris' cat who had ventured out at the scent of dessert. Most of the boxes contained clothing, several outfits that Chris had picked out for him with his impeccable taste.

They brought back memories of countless shopping sprees during competitions, and he grinned and squealed, thanking his hosts profusely as his pile of outfits grew. Chris had thoughtfully included the types of sweaters and hoodies he was partial to, along with a dress shirt and slacks. After each gift was opened, he'd ask Yuuri's opinion of them and then preened as Yuuri would compliment a color or would say he thought Viktor would look good in them, all the while wearing his charming blush.

It was odd, he'd never asked for anyone's opinion of his clothing before, having the self confidence to be able to dress himself and look nice. He never considered himself the most handsome person, but he was aware he'd always been good looking. But now he was asking for Yuuri's approval, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Chris was giving him an odd look though, and Viktor knew he was caught. He could feel his nose turn pink and started in on the last present, but as soon as he opened it up to an insanely soft cream colored cardigan he held it up for Yuuri to appraise before he could even think to not.

"It looks really comfortable." Yuuri said gently and reached out to touch it, and a shiver crept down Viktor's spine. "Feels like it too."

Viktor grinned in spite of himself and folded it carefully to add to his pile. Four complete outfits would be enough for now, until he could go shopping himself. He served himself another slice of cake and asked Yuuri to pass the box of gingerbread, which he, of course, politely did. There was something about selecting a cookie that was being offered by Yuuri, his favorite sweet not only being remembered by him, but also gifted, that made Viktor flush as he said a thank you continued to eat.

"Vitya, why don't we go hang up your new clothes?" Chris asked, setting his own empty plate on a side table. Levin looked at between the two of them curiously, Yuuri obliviously smiling and sipping on his second helping of cider. Hesitantly, not really wanting to leave his spot on the couch, to leave Yuuri, or the food, Viktor nodded and picked up the pile of clothing.

Viktor knew something was up as soon as Chris shut the door to the guest room, his room, behind them.

"What is it?" he asked in French, pouting that he was in his room instead of out there with the others. Chris just smiled at him kindly, though his eyes were tinged with worry. Without any further preamble, Chris' hand was on Viktor's forehead, testing the temperature.

"You're awfully warm, Vitya." he said quietly as he let his hand drop to the armful of clothing, shifting them from Viktor's grip to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine?" Viktor said, almost a question about if he should be feeling off or ill. Chris sighed as he opened the armoire and gestured for Viktor to start handing him the outfits to hang up.

"It's just, you're eating an awful lot, and you're presenting things to Yuuri, seeking validation. Add that to the fever… I think what Doctor Durand talked about is happening." He explained his thoughts and Viktor felt himself pale.

"_Really?_" Viktor was absolutely mortified. Now that he was, literally, removed from the previous scene, his own actions and feelings started to careen through his mind - this time with a more objective eye. The jealousy he'd felt when Chris had kissed Yuuri's cheek, how his subconscious had been worried after Yuuri needlessly but had wanted to see more of his vulnerable side through provoking him to blush, and how many slices of cake and cookies had he taken? All of it was making more sense. "Oh… Chris… no… did it have to come _now?_"

"Relax, Vitya, it was bound to happen. The doctor said it could happen quickly." Chris made short work of his task and closed the doors to the armoire and smiled at his friend. Viktor couldn't bring himself to return the smile, humiliation settling in the pit of his stomach. "And for what it's worth… I don't think Yuuri noticed. I think you're just in pre-heat."

He snorted bitterly, "And you don't think he'll notice when I don't come out of my room for a week? God, Chris… I-I keep thinking of him as… as a guardian… a protector. I can't just do that to him! Do you know how creepy that is?!"

"In a way, he is?" The Swiss offered, "He literally put his life on the line for you, and when you asked, rearranged his entire life to come here just because you asked, because he thought you needed support and he wanted to be here for you."

"_But he's not my mate!"_ Viktor hissed. "And I don't even know what to _do_ with a normal heat. I've never had one!"

"Vitya, relax." Chris caught his face between his hands and held it there before he could balk and shrink away. "I don't know what it was like before… but I've been an omega since I was a kid, so I do know a thing or two about normal ones. I'll help you through it."

"But…" Blue eyes welled, "I asked for him when I was in the hospital… I'll probably ask for him again with how I've been acting. This is fucking _embarrassing._"

"Most medical things are?" Chris offered soothingly, patting his shoulders. "Do you want me to ask Levin to take Yuuri to a hotel for the next few days? Or should we go to a hotel?"

Sniffing, Viktor shook his head, "No… that… that would be worse. Just… just don't let me do anything stupid."

"I won't." The promise didn't do much to make him feel any better, but he nodded with acceptance. "Doctor Durand said this one likely wouldn't be very heavy, it's just your body getting back to normal. But I do have a serious question for you… Do you think you're going to want any toys?"

The churn in Viktor's stomach and how he involuntarily flinched away, stepping back gave them both the answer.

"Okay." Chris accepted it within stride. "I know this isn't going to mean much to you right now, but I can be in here when you're not in a haze, but as soon as you feel your body taking over, let me know - and I'll step out. I'll keep Levin away, but… Vitya, if you are going to want Yuuri around, you need to ask him for help. Talk to him about it."

"I don't want that kind of help." Viktor snapped and Chris shook his head.

"I don't mean that kind of help. I mean he can come in and talk to you in between hazes, and step out just like me. But only if you're comfortable with it."

"I’m not worried about me. You saw how he blushed just from complimenting my new sweater."

Chris frowned. "Vitya, he navigated the black market. You honestly think a heat is going to send him running?"

"Yes! No… I don't know. It's different!" Viktor slumped miserably onto his bed. "I hate this."

"Would you prefer if I talked to him?"

"… Yeah. I think that would be best… I don't think I could handle it if he said 'yes' just because I’m standing in front of him… and he didn't actually want to help. I don't want him to hate me."

"Trust me, Vitya, Katsuki Yuuri could never hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Otanjōbi ometedō gozaimasu_ \- Happy Birthday  
2\. _Lebkuchen_ \- Traditional German gingerbread  
3\. _Golubtsy_ \- Mincemeat mixed with cooked rice or buckwheat wrapped in cabbage leaves and stewed in tomato sauce, and optionally topped with sour cream  
4\. _Pelmini_ \- Dumplings, can be filled with meat and/or veggies, and cooked in salted water or broth. Toppings include sour cream, butter, vinegar, mustard, horseradish, tomato sauce... basically whatever is suited to your tastes!  
5\. _Joyeux Noël_ \- Merry Christmas
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> Well... I did say it would be late. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I'll be going through the last couple of chapters and editing a few minor things here and there - Mostly typos etc to alleviate my obsessive compulsions of grammar and spelling and formatting, so don't feel like you'll need to go back and re-read. Just giving a heads up as to why the next chapter might take a little bit longer as I scour for my mistakes. Expect it some time after the new year. ^^
> 
> Next chapter will be Viktor's heat - but it is definitely not one of the reasons that this fic is rated Explicit, that will come later, so if you had any concerns about that, don't worry. This story is about growing through trauma to be healthy, I'm not going to throw the two of them in bed together this soon. 
> 
> Happy reading! As always, please let me know what you think, even if there are things that make you go 'Eh?'


	10. Hold On, and Sleep Peaceful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hold on. Hold on to yourself._   
_For this is going to hurt like hell._   
_So now you're sleeping peaceful_   
_I lie awake and pray_   
_That you'll be strong tomorrow_   
_And will see another day_   
_And we will praise it_   
_And love the light that brings a smile_   
_Across your face_
> 
> _~ Hold On, The Rescues (Originally Sarah Mclachlan)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None

To say Viktor's entire body was hot was an understatement. Every inch of his skin was prickling with a fever that he hadn't before felt. Bringing a trembling hand to his forehead, it came away damp with sweat, his fingers and palm the same temperature and not giving any reprieve like they might if he was experiencing a fever from a flu. The regimen of regular hormones, correct hormones, flushing out the bad ones was the cause of this, and the doctor had told Chris and him as much. He'd said it could take as little as a few days or possibly a few weeks, but a heat would arrive. Of course Viktor's luck meant it would be sooner rather than later.

Pushing his hair out of his face, trying to get the cold air of his room to give some sort of relief, he tugged his pajama shirt off his chest. The air was cool for a split second before his body adjusted too soon and his chest was prickling again. Whimpering involuntarily, he groped blindly for his phone on the nightstand. Chris had told him to let him know if there was anything he needed, even if it was the middle of the night, and he didn't want to call out in fear of waking Yuuri and Levin.

Wincing at the bright light of his screen, he shot a text to Chris stating simply "Need some help, please." and let his phone bounce to the mattress next to him. Taking stock of how his body was, he realized he wasn't hard yet. He hoped that would be something that came later, after Chris could come in and get him situated. Viktor wished he'd asked Chris more about what a natural heat was like so he would know what to expect, but in his excitement of having Yuuri come to visit, and his humiliation of being such a stereotypical omega in front of him, he'd completely neglected to have that conversation. Chris had presented in his teens, a rare 'true' omega, and while he wasn't shy about his bodily functions, on or off the ice, the times they'd spoken of his heat had been laced with exaggerated tales and innuendos in the joking way friends would talk of how their bodies reacted to things.

Laying his head back on his pillow, his head was beginning to ache, and he wasn't sure if it was better to lay down or to stay sitting. The cushion helped the pain, but the cloth made the back of his neck heat up uncomfortably, and Viktor couldn't decide which was worse. Groaning in frustration, he rolled over, punching his pillows into a squishy submission, forcing the duvet and sheets to surround him for comfort but let his body meet more of the air. Flopping back down, he was already ready for the whole ordeal to end.

A cold, wet cloth was placed on his forehead and a gentle command from above told him "Drink." as a cup was tilted against his dry lips. Viktor shivered at the stark temperature change, but welcomed it wholeheartedly as he gulped down the most refreshing water he'd ever tasted. His eyes fluttered open after the cup was drained and Chris was standing next to him with a sympathetic expression.

"There you are. I tried to get your attention, but you weren't responding." he said lowly, kneeling next to the bed.

"Is that normal?" Viktor couldn't help but ask and Chris nodded.

"Remember that time in Nagano when Josef and Yakov had to come fish us out of that _izakaya1_?"

Viktor only hummed his affirmation, flipping the cloth on his forehead already for a fresh coolness.

"How we were both in and out of consciousness and were so drunk we couldn't really respond to their questions, but sometimes we could?" Chris reached somewhere out of Viktor's line of sight and he could hear the cup being refilled, "Heats are like that. Sometimes you'll be coherent, and others… not so much. What helps is lots of water and trying to keep your temperature low enough to think. So try to take cold showers when you can."

The cup was pressed to his mouth a second time and Viktor was able to hold it himself, downing it quickly.

"Can I take one now?" he asked, his throat still feeling a bit dry.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Chris helped him stand up and Viktor teetered for a second as Chris' hand came around his back for support. They lumbered to the small en suite bathroom and Viktor sat on the toilet as Chris turned the shower to a cool temperature. Viktor didn't even have time to think about how he was getting undressed in front of his best friend, not that it mattered anyway, too many locker room towel fights lay between them for it to be truly embarrassing. He was vaguely aware that he was grateful it was Chris helping him, though. Chris propped him up under the water spray until he was steady enough to stand on his own and retreated behind the curtain.

The shower definitely helped, Viktor's head already clearing and the spray offering relief from the heat that was making his limbs heavy. He took the body wash and rubbed himself down with the lather lightly, too tired to do a thorough job with a loofah. He just needed the sweat rinsed away, and he had a feeling he should conserve his energy for later showers when he'd actually need to do some scrubbing.

Staying in the shower probably far longer than what he should, Viktor blinked in horror as a hot wetness began to slide down his thighs. With a groan, he rinsed that away too, frowning in distaste. While he'd never had a natural heat, he was certainly familiar with his own slick, though the scent of it seemed different than it had been while in faux heat. There was the citric and floral tone, but it was lacking a distinct synthetic smell, like the difference between canned fruit and fresh. When his legs wobbled under him, he knew it was time to go back to bed, though he was loathe to no longer have the refreshing coolness of the shower.

Flipping the stream off, he shakily opened the shower curtain and was met with a towel being held by Chris. At least he was able to towel off well enough on his own before pulling on a new pair of dark boxer briefs, and his friend helped him back to bed.

"Here, drink some more water. You're going to need it." Chris insisted, holding up the refreshed glass, and Viktor took it obediently. As he drank, Chris examined the disheveled sheets and blankets with a fond smile. "You're starting to nest, Vitya. That's a good sign."

Viktor choked on his sip of water and looked at the bed with a mix of horror and awe. "I've… never nested before."

Chris frowned, "Because you didn't want to… or because you couldn't?"

"Couldn't." Was all Viktor said, knowing the implication of Ivan's further cruelty would be clear, and worked on finishing his water. His stomach felt a little sloshy from how much he had drank, but he was feeling much better.

"_Merde…2_" Chris hissed under his breath and then went over to the armoire, pulling out the bottom drawer. "Well, after what Doctor Durand told us, I made Lev pick up a few nesting kits, just in case…"

Out of the drawer came three different kits, all vacuum sealed and ready for use. In the dim light, Viktor could make out that they weren't the same white color as his sheets and duvet, and as Chris brought them closer, he smiled when he saw his three of his favorite colors, one kit baby pink, then one navy blue and a royal violet one. All were stuffed with pillows, soft blankets, shimmering scarves of fabric, made of material that was designed to hold pheromone scents well.

"Do you want my help in opening them?"

"No. I'll do it." Viktor's smile was weak but genuine as he looked up at Chris. "But thank you, and tell Levin too."

"I will, _chéri3_. We just wanted you to have whatever you might need." Chris set them beside the nightstand and knelt on the floor again, and Viktor assumed it was because of the stories he'd heard of omegas not liking others in their nest without an explicit invitation. He appreciated the courtesy, as it was one he'd never experienced, though if it was Chris sitting on his bed he probably wouldn't have minded. Levin, being an alpha, would be a different story. Yuuri… Viktor repressed a shiver as the thought of Yuuri's scent left him with a comforting tingle.

"What did Yuuri say… when you asked him?"

Chris laughed softly, "Do you really think he'd say 'no?'" and when Viktor glared at him he continued, "He said he'd help out in whatever way would be most comfortable to you. Even suggested moving our game console in here so you wouldn't be bored."

Viktor blushed and leaned back on the mattress, propping himself up with his arms. "He has a point. That might be a good idea."

"I don't have many games though. I think a Zelda or two and Mario Kart… Lev might have downloaded Minecraft as I've caught him playing that on his computer when he's stressed. But feel free to download others if you find something interesting in the store."

Letting out a chuckle, Viktor went to say something about Chris spending way too much on him when something churned deep in his stomach. Blood fell from his face, rushing lower and lower until it settled within his belly and almost instantly he was hard. Clenching his muscles, he began to shake and he looked up at Chris with an unsteady breath.

"You'd probably better go…" he said softly and Chris' eyes widened, standing up immediately.

"Do you need anything?" he asked quickly, and Viktor shook his head.

"I don't… I don't want to…" Viktor choked as he curled his legs back into the bed and hid himself under a blanket, no matter how hot and uncomfortable it was to have the scorching heat scratching through him. Chris stepped forward, hand hovering and uncertain and Viktor burst out sobbing, burying his face and wrenching a fist into a pillow, "I'm so _tired_ of not having control over my own body!"

"Oh, _chéri_…" Chris groaned mournfully, grasping Viktor's hand instantly. "You don't have to give into the instinct, you know. It'll make it more painful, but you don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

"… I won't… I _refuse…_" Viktor gasped as he held onto Chris' hand, an then bent his head down closer to his wrist. A burst of rosemary tinged with frankincense wafted past his nose and it turned from a sense of worry to calm as Chris controlled what scent he was giving.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Scent… is h-helping…" was the stuttered reply and Chris smoothed silver hair back from Viktor's face.

"Okay, I need my hand back just for a moment." He said gently and Viktor released it with difficulty, and lay as still as he possibly could, eyes closed tight as he heard Chris moving something around the room. Another cold cloth was placed on his forehead and Viktor opened his eyes to see Chris had moved the ottoman to the side of the bed so he wasn't kneeling on the floor. He offered his wrist once again and Viktor held it close to his nose, breathing deep, another wave of _want_ crashing over him, making him whimper. "I'm here, Vitya. Just breathe."

* * *

Hours later, Chris emerged from Viktor's room, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click' so that his friend could sleep. He was sure he looked as exhausted as he felt, stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand as he moved toward the kitchen to empty the bowl of water he'd taken in for the washcloths, which he had in a bag dangling from his arm. As he entered, he was nearly surprised to see Levin and Yuuri there, Yuuri eating one of Levin's favorite competition season breakfasts, quinoa with Greek yogurt and fresh fruit and Levin preparing another bowl for himself.

"Is it morning already?" Chris chuckled good naturedly, fighting another yawn as he moved about his task.

"How is he?" Yuuri nearly burst in asking and Chris' smile softened to fond.

"He's okay. I just left him sleeping." he told the two that were clearly fretting. Levin gave a quick sigh of relief and stepped over to greet him with a quick kiss to his temple, frowning at the foreign scent of distress that Chris knew was all over him. "He's fighting his instincts, but he said having my scent there helps."

"Let me do that." Levin told him, taking the bowl and bag of washcloths. "I'll wash these, you get something to eat and get some rest yourself. Take my breakfast."

"Ah, _mon amour_, you take such good care of me." Chris smiled and gratefully slumped onto a barstool next to Yuuri, who was eyeing him cautiously. Levin slid a bowl in front of him and took the bag to the laundry room.

"When you say 'fighting his instincts', you mean… not… um…" Yuuri struggled for the phrase in English, or, just as likely, not wanting to ask directly.

"_Oui_, he's going against what his body is telling him it needs." Chris affirmed, uncharacteristically taking the delicate route. He didn't need to be explicit or suggestive here, out of respect to Viktor, and also Yuuri, who was simply concerned.

"Oh…" Yuuri looked sadly into his bowl and poked at it with his spoon, "Isn't that painful? For an omega?"

"It is. But it is his choice." he explained, taking a bite of the quinoa and sneaking a bit of cream normally reserved for Levin's coffee in with it. He wasn't competing, after all, and could indulge himself more. "He said he was tired of not having control."

Brown eyes went wide with understanding and Yuuri breathed out in relief. "That makes sense. But I wish he wasn't in any more pain."

Chris pondered that a moment as he chewed, and stood to prepare himself a cup of coffee. "I think this is a good pain, _mon petite chou4_. I think he needs to learn that he's in charge of himself now, that he can choose whichever way he wants to have this heat. He's never had that before, so let's just support him as best we can, _non?_"

Yuuri looked up at him with the sort of determination only he could have and nodded firmly. "Should I stay back from practice? Levin offered to take me."

"_Non,_ I want you to go get settled into the rink and work off some of that jetlag. But take it easy today, no jumps higher than doubles, if you decide to do any, and make sure to take extra time to stretch and drink plenty of water. Today is not the day to push that glorious stamina of yours." he thought for a moment, sleep deprivation slowing his mental process a bit. "On second thought, pick a special figure and practice it several times to work on your edge work, take a picture to show me later. Your footwork will be what will push you above everyone else in Pyeongchang. The rest of them might have the jumps, but you have both now, especially with that quad flip you showed off the other day."

He could feel Yuuri staring at him, unused to seeing this side of his personality, and Chris grinned.

"What, did you think I would go easy on you?"

"N-no! Not at all!" Yuuri insisted, "I just thought you'd push the jumps more."

"Of course not, _chéri._ Why neglect what makes you shine above everyone else?"

Yuuri smiled at that, and continued eating his breakfast, clearly more at ease now that one worry seemed to be assuaged. Chris was sorry he wouldn't be able to be there for Yuuri's first day training at the new rink, but knew he was in good hands with his mate. Thinking of the devilishly handsome man, Levin returned and began preparing another makeshift parfait as Chris informed him of his instructions for Yuuri, who had finished eating and was washing, drying and putting away his dishes before retreating to his room to continue preparing for the day.

"Should we have told him we have a dishwasher?" Levin asked, amused at how dedicated Yuuri seemed in being the perfect guest. He had done the same thing with the dinner and dessert dishes the night before, after Viktor had retired, insisting on helping with the cleanup before Chris or Levin had been able to intercede and make his task easier as they were preparing things for Viktor's impending heat. Chris grinned impishly.

"He'll learn."

* * *

Yuuri did as he was told for the first day of training, happy to have directions to follow as he mapped out how he would do an Engleman Star on the ice. Levin was working with some younger students, taking over Chris' classes for the day before meeting up with his own coach and ice dance partner, and so Yuuri was on the far side of the rink, the corner usually reserved for practicing jumps, but it was the only patch of ice that was left unmarked.

Taking a deep breath, he began tracing the star with his blades, a picture on his phone for reminders on when he was supposed to turn or switch feet. He was very tired, and was grateful to have time to concentrate on a task that would both occupy his thoughts and settle the bubbling anxiety that was ever present in his chest. Rotating, he glanced at his phone to ensure he'd got the timing right, and carefully drew the pattern. It seemed to take forever, but soon he had mapped out all the curved points, the loops, and the rounded diamond in the center. He glided back a few feet to examine it, snapping a picture for Chris and for his own reference, and then started retracing his steps.

With the foundation already drawn, he found his mind wandering back to Chris' apartment, to Viktor, and how bizarre the entire situation in which he'd found himself. As he'd finished his unpacking, his new coach had knocked and asked for a minute for a conversation. Chris had explained Viktor's predicament, and Yuuri was certainly sympathetic, though completely out of his depth. His mother and sister were alphas and his father omega, but it wasn't as though they had discussed what their heats or ruts were like. That simply wasn't a conversation they'd had. He knew his mom had pulled Mari aside to have 'the talk' when she'd presented as a teenager, but he wasn't privy to it, and for all his father's antics when he was drunk - heats just weren't part of his inebriated repertoire of comments and jokes. Phichit was fairly new at being an alpha since presenting after meeting and dating Seung Gil, but Yuuri had blushed and evaded any conversation regarding it.

So when Chris asked if he'd be comfortable helping Viktor through this heat, in a strictly platonic way, he'd agreed wholeheartedly without thinking. Then he almost reneged. Chris, seeing his hesitation and discomfiture, was quick to reassure him that it would likely just be between Viktor's hazes and waves. It would be just talking, watching movies, or, by his own suggestion, playing video games. However, there had been a warning and an explanation that had gone along with it.

"Did you notice he was seeking your approval all night?" Chris had asked.

"No. Wait… h-he was?" And Yuuri had thought back to how Viktor had interacted with him during their short time together. What he had considered just trying to make him feel included, trying to build a friendship, was suddenly being viewed in a new light. "I… I thought he was just being himself. I don't know him well enough to know any different."

"Oh, he certainly was himself_, mon chou,_ I've never known Vitya to not show off. But being in preheat can make omegas' inhibitions lower just a bit. So he normally doesn't show off quite that much around new people." Chris had chuckled, but then gave him a very serious look, "Yuuri, because you were the biggest factor in his rescue, his instincts are calling out to you as his protector. It's why he asked for you while in hospital, and Vitya is embarrassed, but he thinks he might ask for you even during his hazes."

"Oh…" Yuuri was completely dumbfounded, and shuffled his feet nervously as he sat on the edge of his bed. He had supposed it made sense, but Yuuri couldn't see himself in that light. He'd just been doing the right thing, he thought. "So… if he does?"

"You don't have to do a thing. Vitya has made it clear he doesn't want a…_ compagnon.5 _Vitya just asked me to let you know that he might act a little strangely, and wants to make sure you're not going to be uncomfortable in being around him."

Yuuri still wasn't sure if he would be uncomfortable, but in truth, he didn't actually mind Viktor's feelings toward him. It was odd, to be sure, but the whole situation was so far out of the ordinary that this seemed rather minor by comparison. He'd agreed to help, and he was glad to be of service in any way he could.

Glancing down at the ice, he realized with a quiet curse under his breath he'd messed up the last of the star he was tracing. With a sigh, he refocused his attention and started again. After he'd traced it so many times he wasn't sure the Zamboni would be able to erase it with just a once over, he decided to run through his routines a couple times, marking the jumps.

A bell rang through the rink, signaling it was time for the ice to be cleared, and he left the ice. Finding a quiet spot, he removed his skates and began his post practice stretches, ignoring the whispers and giggles of Chris' students that had recognized him. Levin noticed a pair that was loitering near, seeming to be debating on asking him for a photo, however, and he quickly spoke in sharp French, deflating the girls faces.

"_Pardon6_ Yuuri." Levin smiled as he came over to check on him. "I told them it wasn't officially announced that you're training here, so to keep it off social media. Has Ciao Ciao said anything about how to handle the press?"

Yuuri froze as he bent his torso over his elongated legs and looked up at Levin.

"No. We didn't have time to talk about it…" he said quietly, and Levin frowned. Yuuri knew they were both thinking of how the announcement of his new training rink, of Chris being an assistant coach, would bring some spotlight and speculation. And if Viktor was seen with them at all… "What should we do?"

Levin sighed, brows knitted together as he kept his thoughts to himself for a moment. "Well, it will be up to Viktor, _oui?_ And it's something we will not have to worry about for a few days at least. But we should ask Chris to reach out to our agent, have a few ideas for a plan so that we will not be blinded. I'm sure he's already thought of a few ideas himself."

Yuuri nodded and stood, eyeing the young teenagers warily, hoping they would follow Levin's instructions. Quickly packing his bag, he headed toward the locker rooms, Levin following to show him which locker would be his for the next few months. Once they were out of earshot of the children, he voiced his biggest concern. "Maybe we should loop Yakov in too. If Ivan is watching at all, even if Viktor isn't photographed, he might suspect something if Chris and I are seen together."

"We will." Levin promised with a worried smile. "But first, let's get home."

* * *

Viktor had never been one to play many video games, which was being made increasingly clear as the computer defeated him once again in the popular racing game. Frowning in frustration, he pushed the button to restart again probably harder than he ought, determined to beat the smug dinosaur that he now declared his nemesis. He was about halfway through the next track when a soft knock sounded at the door and he called "Come in!" without looking away from the television. He was aware of the door opening and shutting, then a figure walking closer to his bed, but it wasn't until he could smell the cinnamon and cedar that he realized it was not Chris.

"Yuuri!" he beamed, the game forgotten as he dropped the controller and hastily made sure a sheet was over his bare legs. Even if he was in his boxers, he was sure just being in his underwear was a huge social _faux pas_. Yuuri's eyes were shining with mirth as he reached down and paused the game for him, and he glanced to the television where the large number listed him in last place. "How was practice?"

"It was good." Yuuri smiled at him and then pinked up in his cheeks. "Chris had me try out an Engleman Star figure."

Viktor's cerulean eyes widened, "How was it? Do you have a picture?"

Fumbling into his pocket, Yuuri nodded and shyly passed over his phone, unlocked to a picture. Viktor grinned as he examined how it looked, zooming in at some parts of the image. "You were distracted at some points, weren't you?" he teased and Yuuri flushed further.

"… Yes." he admitted and sat down on the ottoman Chris had parked at the edge of the bed. "Chris said I have to make it part of my warm up until I get it right."

Viktor chuckled and passed Yuuri's phone back over to him and fluffed up his pillows behind him absently, as well as the ones he'd used to line the side of his bed. As he realized what a mess his bed looked, he quickly placed the blankets and pillows back in order and curled his legs in front of him. Peeking up at Yuuri, who was checking something on his phone politely as he made the adjustments, he could feel his own blush creeping up his neck, though, he was sure it wouldn't make much of a difference. He was so damn _hot_, some extra blood flowing into his cheeks wouldn't make much of a color difference.

"Did Chris… um… did he talk to you?" He asked Yuuri softly. The other man nodded and placed his phone on the bedside table so he could look directly ahead.

"_Un_… He did." Yuuri's smile was small, patient. "He explained what was going on. Are you feeling okay?"

Viktor hummed as he combed his fingers through his hair, trying to decide exactly what he was feeling. The last awful wave of haze had just ended the hour before, and he'd had another shower to clean up and cool down. There was an incessant ache in his hips and groin, and it was spreading up to his lower back. Chris had been there through the whole thing, scenting for him as it was the only thing that helped as he tried to hold perfectly still, to prevent himself from rutting and seeking relief.

While it was horrible, it was completely different from the heat states he'd experienced before this one. His mind wasn't completely gone, and Chris had been able to talk and reminisce with him about old shared memories to keep his mind off of things, he'd even laughed at a few of them.

"It's… this is better." Viktor said honestly, picking at the edge of the sheet covering him. "I'm… I don't know how to explain it. But I'm okay."

"Good." Yuuri's relief was evident as he exhaled. "Do you need anything?"

Viktor gestured to the side table that was covered with large pitchers of water, left over cake, granola bars, fruit and other snacks and laughed. "Chris has been making sure I eat and drink, you know… in between."

"That's good." Yuuri smiled and faltered for a second, looking for something else to say, and Viktor was content to just sit in the quiet for moment as he watched him. Yuuri's eyes traveled around the room. It was bright, with a large window with a sheer curtain for natural light, the colors all subdued violets and yellows. Chris had clearly been in charge of decorating it. It wasn't how Viktor would have chosen to design the room, but it was definitely comfortable, and a far cry better than what his old room had been.

Viktor's content expression froze as Yuuri's gaze landed on the nesting materials he hadn't opened yet. Chris hadn't broached the subject of nesting again, and Viktor wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't pulled the inviting looking blankets and pillows onto the very white bed. He just knew that when Chris had been preparing the food, he'd lifted the blue kit up and felt nauseous, so he'd tossed them back to the floor. Looking away in shame, he shifted himself further up on the bed uncomfortably.

"I… haven't touched them yet." he admitted before Yuuri could ask about them, if he was even going to ask. He could feel big brown eyes fix on him and lowered his gaze to his hands that were twisting nervously in his lap.

"Do you want to?" Yuuri asked innocently, and Viktor took a deep breath before answering.

"Yes… and no." he said quietly, his own voice sounding so small in the space. This room was much smaller than the room Ivan had kept him in, but it was suddenly cavernous. He itched the side of his neck as Yuuri tentatively picked up the navy blue package curiously. Feeling Yuuri's eyes still wandering, as though he was seeing things in a different way, he curled his legs up to his chest and waited for him to say something.

"You undid your nest when I came in." Yuuri said gently. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact. "Is it… because of _him?_"

Viktor's heart stopped for a beat as he looked up at Yuuri's concerned frown. Swallowing thickly, he nodded and Yuuri's expression softened.

"Viktor, do you want to nest? Would it make you feel better?"

Yuuri was definitely bad for his heart, it now pounding in his chest as water welled at the brim of his eyes. They fell silently as they looked at each other, Viktor unable to voice that he definitely wanted to, but years of conditioning prevented it. The younger man seemed to understand and his lips set into a determined line.

"Then you _should_. It's okay, Viktor. You can nest if you want to." Yuuri said confidently, gently pushing the kit into Viktor's hands. His fingers shook as he twisted the zipper thoughtfully, a sob caught in the back of his throat.

Clearing his throat and sniffing, Viktor decided that Yuuri was right. Ivan was several countries away, and had no say in his life anymore. He knew this, and also knew that the only way he'd be able to also _feel_ it is to do exactly as he wanted. It wasn't a huge task, but a nest would be a good small step in the right direction.

"Will you help me?" Viktor asked softly, glancing up through his tear clumped lashes. Yuuri looked surprised, but he nodded.

"I-I've never made a nest before." he admitted shyly, an awkward twist of his mouth turning upward, "What do you want me to do?"

"Just…" Viktor placed the kit back into Yuuri's lap, "Can you hand me what I ask for?"

Yuuri nodded and pulled the other two kits up onto the ottoman next to him and began to open each. Viktor took in a shaky breath and moved to the center of the bed, twisting the white fluffy duvet up into a roll that could serve as the base. When he looked back over to Yuuri, there were blankets and pillows spread all over his lap and his seat, and he was fluffing them up to full size from their squished packaging. Examining the offering, Viktor pointed at the dark blue and purple pillows.

"Those first, please." he asked. Yuuri dutifully handed them over and Viktor smiled as he took them, bringing them to his nose. They were completely sterile, save for a soft brush of cinnamon from Yuuri's touch and it sent a wave of calm through his stiff shoulders. Viktor ran his wrist over them and began placing them around the edge of the bed, "Your scent… it's really calming." he admitted without glancing over, knowing full well at this point any compliment would send Yuuri blushing.

"Oh… um. Thank you." Yuuri cleared his throat and Viktor smiled to himself.

"Sorry. That's probably strange of me to say." he said as he looked back and pointed to the next item he wanted. "It's just… Celestino let me borrow your hat when we drove to the Plisetsky's house, to cover my hair. It helped to ground me… a couple times in fact."

Yuuri handed him a pink fleece square, and chuckled softly. "That old beanie? I wondered what happened to it."

"I still have it, if you want it back." Viktor tried to sound nonchalant, even if he really didn't want to surrender it, but it definitely wasn't his to keep. To his relief, Yuuri shook his head.

"No. It's okay. I have a couple, and… you might still need it."

Viktor frowned at the way Yuuri said that, even as he gestured to the next pillow he thought would look nice next to the gold embroidered violet one he'd just placed. "What do you mean?"

"We… haven't announced to the press about my new training arrangement. If you're going to be at the rink, you might want to still cover your hair while we're there."

Viktor's hands stopped moving, knitting his brow as he considered Yuuri's words. "I… suppose we're not going to be able to keep my being here a secret forever…"

"But we don't have to tell them anything yet." Yuuri rushed to reassure him, "Chris is on the phone now, with Yakov, asking for his advice."

Relaxing at that, Viktor sighed. "There's so much to be done… this heat came at the worst possible moment… That purple blanket please"

"I don't think it did." Yuuri said, and then smiled, "It could have come while we were at the airport yesterday?"

Laughing, Viktor shrugged. "That's true, I guess. What's left?"

Yuuri held up a few finishing touches, shimmering fabrics in several complementary colors to the kits, and Viktor squeaked in delight over a long strip of glittering gold. The Japanese man grinned and held it for Viktor to take, but Viktor hesitated.

"Um… I have a weird request." he started, tone hopeful but not pushing. "And you can say no if I'm overstepping… but… would you mind scenting it?"

Yuuri's eyes widened and his mouth parted in surprise and Viktor hurried to do damage control.

"I don't mean anything sexual by it. I just mean… Chris' scent helps during the hazes, and y-your hat helped when I was detoxing and traveling… and I know it'll likely start a scent bond, so if you don't want to I completely understand…"

"Viktor… it's… it's okay." Yuuri said quickly. "I really don't mind. I was just… surprised."

"Am… Am I asking too much?" Viktor asked, a knot settling heavy in his stomach. In response, Yuuri only shook his head and looked at the sheer gold fabric, carefully moving it across his wrist. Cinnamon and cedar wood bloomed in the room and tension immediately began melting from Viktor's back and arms, sending a shiver down his spine from the relief. The scent was nothing but sincerity, determination, and friendship. If Yuuri was uncomfortable or worried, he was either extremely good at masking it, or it wasn't there. As he finished, he handed the gold strip to Viktor with an encouraging smile. Viktor shifted to take it, and the movement dislodged another scrap of fabric from beneath the white sheets, this one pink with brown poodles on it, letting it flutter to the ground.

Viktor watched wide eyed as Yuuri bent over to retrieve the handkerchief, the one he'd kept from Chris, Levin and the nurses and Doctor Durand. Yuuri lifted it and raised an eyebrow.

"This wasn't in the kits, was it?" he asked sincerely, holding it out for Viktor to take. Slowly, he pulled the handkerchief from Yuuri's hand.

"No. It's mine." he murmured. "It's… I brought it with me from Moscow."

Yuuri cocked his head to the side in question and Viktor shifted uneasily. "It must be important, then." was all Yuuri said without pushing for more information.

"It's… it helped me in the worst times." Viktor didn't offer any more explanation, not ready to have that conversation quite yet. He wove the last few strips of fabric into the nest, allowing Yuuri's scent to ground and calm him down as it surrounded him. There were a couple ornamental pieces left on Yuuri's lap, but he shook his head when Yuuri offered them.

"I'm going to ask Chris to scent those." he said, "We've had a scent bond before, so it helps too."

Yuuri smiled and set them aside for their mutual friend later. "You made a really nice nest."

Viktor looked around him, the nest nearly complete, but easily could be finished even without the last little bit that Chris would help him with. Yuuri's praise along with the accomplishment of his first ever nest taking full shape filled his chest with pride. It did look really nice, if he thought so himself. The colors were certainly more his style, and it was very comforting. His scent was on nearly every piece, save for the couple Yuuri had taken care of, and it caught the light coming in from the window very well, indeed. Slumping against the sturdy edge closest to Yuuri, he smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Yuuri." Contentment spread through him as his instinct was, at least in part, finally soothed. He could feel the heat increasing at the base of his stomach, and he let out a frustrated breath as the next wave began to take root. He'd left the white sheet purposefully out of the woven structure for that exact moment, pulling it over his legs once again. "Um… The next haze is settling in."

"Oh! I'll give you some privacy." Yuuri blinked and moved to stand, but Viktor shook his head quickly.

"Could… could you stay?" Viktor asked, "I promise I'm not going to… Could you just talk to me? Distract me?"

Yuuri flushed and settled back on the ottoman, "I'll do my best." he promised.

* * *

Yuuri winced in sympathy, yet again, as Viktor tried to keep his writhing to a minimum. He'd lost count of how many waves this latest one made. Chris and he had been taking turns, catching naps and meals in between, and Yuuri had gone to practice for the second time earlier. It wasn't as awkward as he'd thought it would be, sitting with Viktor during a haze. Mostly, he just hated seeing Viktor in pain, not even really thinking of exactly what was straining him so badly.

In between was filled with video games, which Viktor was phenomenally bad at, sit coms, eating healthy snacks for Yuuri, some enviously unhealthy for Viktor and Chris, and watching competitor's routines and Viktor offering hilarious critiques. Yuuri stayed clear of watching anything with JJ, not wanting to bring up his fury at the man, or having to explain his newfound hatred for the Canadian, but that was for Interpol to deal with now.

All in all, it had actually been a lot of fun to spend time with both Viktor and Chris, Levin staying clear of the room as he was an alpha and all four of them agreed it might be upsetting to have that scent around. The entertainment was always cut short, with Viktor suddenly announcing the next wave. Sometimes both he and Chris would stay, hold his hands if he asked, but this time Chris had left to go help Levin do some grocery shopping. Yuuri had heard them both return, but they'd decided to not enter in the middle of a wave, worried a sudden newcomer would upset Viktor, and he'd agreed.

"I-I _can't…_" Viktor's words came between heavy breaths bordering on dry heaving, sweat poured off his face and dripped onto the mattress below his hands. "C-c-can't… do… _this…" _

Curving his spine so he tucked his hips under him and buried his head into his arms, hands gripping the back of his hair, he shuddered relentlessly. Halted gasps and curses in Russian spilled from him as he refused to give in and fought against his every instinct, everything in his body telling him he needed release. Heat was practically radiating off his blanched skin, turning him a mottled mix of vibrant red patches amid his pale coloring.

"Y-yuuri!" He choked when it became too much, and Yuuri was there, presenting his wrist. Absently he began running his other hand soothingly through matted silver locks. He nearly stopped once he realized what he was doing, but it seemed to be helping, and Viktor would have had no problem telling him to not, so he continued.

"It's okay Viktor…" he said softly as Viktor whimpered in relief at having access to Yuuri's scent gland. "You're safe. I promise, you're safe."

Yuuri could tell Viktor was forcing himself to breathe deeply, trying to embrace the intense pressure he was no doubt feeling. The way he was beginning to relax even just a little under Yuuri's hand petting his hair gave him an idea, however.

"Viktor? I have an idea… are you with me enough?" For the silence of the man below him, save the heavy breathing, Yuuri was sure he'd have to wait to ask him after this wave was finished.

"…Yes…" Viktor wheezed after a moment, as though he had to remind himself to respond, forcing the word through his throat.

"You know how we stretch before getting on the ice? How we stretch all over and a spotting partner sometimes helps? Or like in physical therapy?" Yuuri asked gently and Viktor nodded once, his grip tightening on Yuuri's wrist though it wasn't painful. "And how our spotting partner or therapist will sometimes rub down our muscles?"

Viktor froze, and Yuuri's hand paused on his head, unsure if his touch was welcome anymore.

"L-like a massage…" Viktor gasped out and nodded several times. "C-can we try that?"

"I'm sure Chris wouldn't mind." Yuuri told him, trying to keep his voice soothing as he resumed his movements through his hair, and was only slightly mortified when Viktor let out a sob.

"W-want your scent." Viktor forced himself up on all fours so he could look at Yuuri's face, "If you're… c-comfortable."

Yuuri's shocked look softened into a smile, "Of course I am. I just thought you might prefer Chris since you know him."

"Trust y-you." And Yuuri could see the outline of a small heart as Viktor tried to give an encouraging smile.

"Okay. Let me help you onto your back."

Viktor relaxed against him as Yuuri guided him to lay in his nest, his body almost automatically going into a floor stretching position. Legs hip width apart and feet flat on the bed, arms out to either side comfortably.

"Legs first?"

"P-please…"

"Okay." Yuuri nodded and smiled encouragingly at the hazy blue eyes that were staring up at him. "I'm not going to go too deep because we're not on a stable surface."

Viktor bobbed his head to indicate he understood and Yuuri placed his hands firmly on a slender calf as he stood on the bed and slowly bent the man below him into a stretch, stopping when he met the barest resistance instead of pushing a little further like he normally would with Phichit. Holding his limb in place, he gently ran his hand along the bottom of Viktor's calf, stuttering in his movement as Viktor let out a groan.

"D-don't stop…. Helping." Viktor said with his eyes closed and brow finally letting go of it's furrow.

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief and continued his movements. They worked slow, Viktor falling back into patterns of stretching that he'd been doing his whole life, and Yuuri offering the support and professional touch that the other man needed without it going into the instincts that Viktor was rejecting. After stretching out his thighs, ankles, calfs, Yuuri moved to his arms. Viktor was breathing easier now, the touch soothing his body into relaxation. After imitating all the full floor stretches they knew, Yuuri helped Viktor sit up and rework his legs and this time his back, with Yuuri kneeling behind him, pushing and pulling and running his hands gently over sweat slicked skin. Viktor settled easily against Yuuri's chest and let out a long sigh.

"Yuuri?" his voice was no longer strained, and his breathing was back to normal. "You're a genius."

Yuuri flushed as Viktor laughed, the haze over quicker than the last few, and reached over to the pitcher of water and glass and took a drink, all too happy to begin rehydrating. Moving to sit by the edge of the nest, Yuuri's chest relaxed, not realizing he was tense in sympathy until it was done.

"Thank you." Viktor told him as he finished his water, refilling the glass and nursing it slower this time. He pulled a sheet over his lower half and settled against a large pillow he'd found he preferred. "I'm sorry you're seeing me like this… and you've been so kind."

"It's okay, Viktor." Yuuri said with a smile, "I'm just glad I can help."

"It must be weird…" Viktor continued, giving him a shy glance, "I mean, we don't really know each other and… my instincts are acting… strange."

Yuuri sighed as he thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully so that his thoughts wouldn't spill out in a confusing jumble. "It's… it's not weird. I mean, it doesn't feel weird. My culture would say it is, but… I'm okay with it. I'm not uncomfortable."

"You mean it's not normal in Japan to share a heat with a broken omega you just met?" Viktor laughed, and Yuuri frowned.

"You're not broken."

"Well, I feel broken." Viktor said simply, as though it was a fact, like he was commenting on the weather. "But thank you."

Yuuri didn't know what to say, so he opted for silence as Viktor finished his second glass of water. With a sigh, Viktor set the glass next to the pitcher.

"God, I need a shower…" he muttered with a sigh and looked over at him. "And I’m sure you're tired?"

"I'm okay. Do you need help, do you want me to get Chris?"

Viktor shook his head, "I think I'll be alright. But…" he paused, and his voice became sheepish, smile shy. "I am hungry? Are there any gingerbread cookies left?"

Grinning, Yuuri nodded, "I'll go get some lunch for you."

Viktor smiled at him and reached out, squeezing Yuuri's hand. "You're too good." he said softly, and they exchanged shy smiles before Viktor swung his legs off the bed and stiffly moved to the bathroom, adding before he went in, "Don't forget the cookies?"

"I won't." Yuuri laughed and moved from the room to get the requested items.

* * *

It was warm. Almost too warm. And there were _two bodies laying next to him._ He flung himself up to his hands in horror, for a split second wondering if escaping, being in Switzerland, the hospital, his heat, was all a fever dream, but when he saw _who _was in his nest with him, he sighed in relief. Chris had been the one pressed against his back in a half big spoon position, and Yuuri was a respectable distance away on his opposite side. He smiled down at both of them, his oldest friend and his newest, all three of them dozing after the last wave. Both men had been there the entire time to help him through one of the most embarrassing experiences of his life. But, he decided, he'd rather take the healthy embarrassment over the daily patent humiliation of his former years.

The warmth in the room wasn't nearly as bad as the heat that had been radiating within for the past few days, and Viktor slowly realized his body was feeling far more normal than it had when he had fallen asleep. As lay back down and closed his eyes again, he tested out his limbs and muscles through slow stretches. The uncomfortable prickling was gone, and so was the unbearable _need_ that he'd violently rejected, but he was still a little sore. With a smile, he counted his blessings that he wasn't nearly as sore as what he might have been, thanks to Yuuri's sweet suggestion of stretching during the waves.

He found he could recount the last few days pretty clearly, and knew that three had passed. Relief settled deep in his bones. While it hadn't been a traditional heat, and there had been moments of intense pain, the two beautiful men beside him had ensured every moment had been on his own terms. There had been no external pressure, not once, to use his body in a way that was against his will. His decisions had been met without judgement and with understanding. The pain had been his own choice, and in fact had not been nearly as bad as the remnants of memory during detoxing. He realized with a smile as he drifted back to sleep that every moment had been his own.

And that was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Izakaya_ \- A standing bar that's very common in Japan.  
2\. _Merde_\- Shit  
3\. _Chéri_ \- My dear  
4\. _Mon petite chou_ \- My little darling/cream puff/cabbage - take your pick  
5\. _Compagnon_ \- Companion  
6\. _Pardon _\- Sorry
> 
> ### Skating Notes:
> 
> _Engleman Star_ \- a special figure that was used in compulsory figure competitions. I honestly cannot find a whole lot of information on it, but here is what it looks like:  
  

> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I didn't mean for this to be such a long chapter, but it ended up that way, haha. Not only is this my first lengthy fic, but it's also my first A/B/O fic, and therefore the first heat I've written and it being a non-sexual one was quite a challenge. I hope I did it justice! Let me know what you thought!
> 
> For those that have helped with translation errors: Thank you soooo much! I haven't had time to go back and update the words in past chapters yet, but that will be my next project along with the latest chapter. In my next author's note, I'll let you all know what I've updated so you don't miss anything. But again, it won't be anything that will change the plot.  
Upcoming chapters will include: Interpol, what they decide to do about the press, and we'll find out more about what happened to Viktor's daughter, and New Years! In short: plenty of angst, but lots of planned fluff too.


	11. I Still Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I still remember lying on the floor_   
_I still remember trying figure this all out_   
_My body bruised with no one left to call_   
_So many questions, running through my head_   
_Saying what have I, what have I done_   
_Will you stay, will you stay here with me_   
_Cause I don't wanna be alone, be alone, _   
_I don't wanna be alone_
> 
> _~ What Have I Done, Taps_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
Viktor retelling some of what happened while he was with Ivan. It is told in flashbacks in italics. Just skip the italics if you would like to avoid that and the summary at the end will tell you what went on.

In front of the mirror, Viktor tugged Yuuri's knit, blue beanie over his hair, tucking the fly away strands up into the hem. Chris had given him an old pair of fashion glasses, no prescription, to help with the disguise and he couldn't help but laugh at how studious he looked with the thick black plastic frames outlining his eyes. It wasn't a look he'd necessarily pick out for himself, but it didn't look half bad.

He had been free of Ivan for sixteen days, and already he was seeing changes in his face. Cheeks rounder, healthier, and the circles under his eyes were starting to fill in with color, so he no longer had the gaunt, hollow look he'd had even in the hospital. Squinting, he leaned forward to examine his eyes even closer and forced himself to not flinch away. While he was starting to look more like his old self in every way, his eyes belied a certain haunting that he wasn't sure would ever leave. Gone was the bright shine that photographers and videographers would ask him to play up when he'd be shooting advertisements. Viktor tried smiling for the mirror, the media smile, and his eyes couldn't quite fake it like they used to be able.

Frowning, he pulled back and closed his eyes, summoning any happy memory he could to try out a genuine smile, to see if even that was lost. First getting Makkachin, or his first win at a Junior Grand Prix competition, the prank he pulled on Yakov when he put pink dye packs in his hat, but all the memories did was make him miss St. Petersburg. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, thinking over the short, but precious time, spent in Geneva. 

"No!" he had yelled in frustration, slapping his own thigh as he only made second place in Mario Kart. "That damned dinosaur!"

Yuuri, who had been watching in between jotting down some choreography ideas, looked up curiously at the television to see what had caused the outburst. With a smile he chuckled, "You were really close that time. But why don't you just play as Yoshi?"

"It's a matter of pride, Yuuri." Viktor sniffed and went back to the character selection screen.

"But why Rosalina?" he had asked.

"Because she looks the most like me!" And whether it be how Viktor had shouted dramatically as the race began, or the reason he gave for his preferred character, Yuuri had burst out laughing. Not just a little chuckle, but a robust sound that had him doubled over his notebook and covering his mouth for fear of being rude. Viktor had been so surprised, his princess avatar had veered off the track, which only made Yuuri laugh even harder.

Viktor opened his eyes and was grinning genuinely at the memory, and _there_! For a split second his eyes looked like they had so long ago, before the spark faded faster than it had come, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was still there. Viktor smiled sadly at his own reflection. Maybe one day he'd have it all back.

Zipping up his jacket, he put his phone in his back pocket and strode out of his room to go meet Chris and Yuuri for their trip to see the lawyers.

* * *

_"Thank you for coming in, Monsieur Nikiforov. We've been eager to speak with you regarding what Monsieur Katsuki reported last week. Please, have a seat."_

_"I… want to help."_

_"We appreciate that Viktor. Can we get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?" _

_"Just water, please." _

_"Claude, will you get Monsieur Nikiforov some water please? … Alright, Viktor Nikiforov, let's just get right to it. We have been contacted by Interpol in regards to a report that you were kept against your will for a number of years by an Ivan Molchalin, is this correct?" _

_"Yes. That's correct."_

_"How long were you held by him?" _

_"Five years." _

* * *

Yuuri, Viktor and Chris all sat in the posh lobby of Gerard Roussel, Esq's offices, waiting to be called back to go over their statements to the police. The Japanese man was fidgeting in his seat as he sifted through his social media, hearting everything recent that Phichit had posted. It seemed his best friend and head coach were back in Detroit, but as Yuuri wasn't also there to keep Celestino rooted in the United States, they were planning on moving Phichit back to Thailand to train until the Olympics. Yuuri smiled in spite of the hornets that were buzzing in his stomach, knowing Phichit would be very happy, indeed, to be at least on the same continent as his boyfriend.

Beside him, Viktor shifted and he caught a whiff of nerves coming from him as well and he paused. Viktor's heat had only ended a couple days prior, but Yuuri hadn't noticed any difference in his scent since the pheromones had calmed down. It was foolish of him to not realize the scent bond they now shared, and immediately felt sorry for not controlling his own scent that was likely putting the man on edge.

"Sorry, Viktor…" Yuuri said softly and Viktor raised a perfect eyebrow at him.

"For what?"

"I should have realized my scent might make you nervous…" Yuuri flushed and tried to go back to his phone, but Viktor only smiled and shook his head.

"It's okay, Yuuri. I'm not reacting to you, I'm a bit nervous too." Viktor patted his arm encouragingly and Yuuri returned his smile, albeit a little weakly. Viktor turned to Chris, a slight pout to his voice, "Why can't I just have the same lawyer as you two?"

"Because you're the one that's pressing charges against Ivan." Chris shrugged, "And if the investigation finds that Yuuri and I committed a crime then they might think you'll want to press charges against us too."

"But you didn't!" Viktor sighed exasperatedly, slumping down in his chair as Chris chuckled. "As if I'd press charges against the ones that got me the hell out."

"Well… they might not agree." Chris said with a shrug. Yuuri thought he seemed awfully calm in the face of everything. As soon as Chris had announced the day before that Interpol, Sledkom, which Yuuri discovered was the Investigative Committee of the Russian Federation, and the Federal Office of Police in Switzerland were all asking them to come in for interviews later that day, Yuuri's anxiety had been, in short, a mess. Even with the immunity his lawyer negotiated for him, Yuuri had been warned that it could all go away if new information came to light, and they thought he'd been willfully deceptive. To his added horror, he'd found out that his lawyer from before only had licensing in the United States and some countries in Asia, but Chris had reached out to his own lawyer and put Yuuri's name as a retainer, which was why he was there as well.

Viktor's lawyer had been hired by Yakov, of course, and had hopped a flight to meet him, and Chris had arranged for them to use the offices of their now shared representative. The entire thing made Yuuri's head hurt. He was a graduate in English and education, figuring after he retired he could teach English at his old high school or something, and at most his experience with the law was the red tape immigration put him through and the crime shows that were so popular for students to binge instead of studying. None of it prepared him for the reality of possibly being accused of human endangerment or solicitation.

Before their conversation could continue further, a man and woman appeared from the hallway leading back to different offices, and Yuuri sat up a little straighter. They approached the trio with confident strides. The woman painted a fierce and severe picture with a cropped hairstyle, sharp but understated eyeliner and a tailored dress suit. The man seemed more at ease, but was also intimidating with his broad shoulders and a suit that was also tailored, though where the woman was clearly up on the latest fashions, the older man seemed to be partial to a dated brown.

Chris rose to his feet, Viktor and Yuuri following suit, and extended his hand to the man and Yuuri assumed this was Gerard Roussel, his new lawyer. They were speaking in French and Viktor nodded along as he was introduced to the woman, whom Yuuri guessed was his own lawyer as they began speaking in Russian. There was a fresh wave of a nervous scent tinged with relief coming from Viktor as he followed her down the hallway, and Viktor glanced back at them before he disappeared around a corner, leaving Yuuri with Chris and Monsieur Roussel.

"We will need to communicate in English, _Monsieur_." Chris requested in a professional tone, "_Monsieur_ Katsuki doesn't speak French or German."

"Ah, yes. That will be just fine." the man was shorter than him, Yuuri realized, but it didn't mean that he wasn't any less intimidating, "_Monsieur_ Katsuki, I am Gerard Roussel, your new representation. I've been in contact with _Monsieur_ Gonzalez from America and he sent me the work you did together in Japan."

"Um… thank you. It's nice to meet you." Yuuri offered a quick bow and shook Gerard's extended hand.

Gerard waved his arm for them to follow him and Yuuri trailed behind Chris, his feet thrumming with the desire to bolt into one of the offices and hide, even if he knew they were likely occupied and that would just cause him far more embarrassment. He did not want to be there.

Roussel's office was much like him. Everything was neat and tidy and in good condition, but clearly he'd been working here for a long time as there were pictures that were from decades prior as well as dated certificates and awards, though, all of it being in French, Yuuri didn't know what they all meant. He copied Chris and settled into one of the leather chairs in front of the imposing desk and clasped his hands together tightly, trying to keep himself still.

* * *

"_How often would he renew your bond mark?"_

_"I really don't know for sure. It was really hard to keep track of time. The only time I wasn't under heat hormones was when I was pregnant, but I remember he renewed it at the five and eight month mark then… so perhaps every three or four months or so?" _

_"Did you ever tell him you didn't want the bond mark?" _

_"I remember fighting it a couple times, but he'd h-hit me if I resisted, so eventually I didn't."_

_"Did he hit you often, Viktor?"_

_"… I-I… um…"_

_"Take your time…"_

_"Wh-whenever I'd do something he'd be upset with. If I cried, or… or if I got caught stealing food from the kitchen, or ask him too many questions… e-eventually I stopped talking to him, he seemed to prefer it that way."_

_"Steal food from the kitchen? You mean to say that he did not feed you enough?"_

_"Yes. I was given three small meals a day, but sometimes it was a punishment, but I remember being hungry almost all the time."_

_"What was a typical meal for you?"_

_"Breakfast was usually a protein bar of some sort, lunch was either a half a sandwich or a cup of soup. Dinner… we'd eat together, so it was different, but he'd give me a plate that would be half the size of what he'd eat."_

_"It won't hurt, Monsieur Nikiforov, but we need to get an imprint of your bond mark, as well as take some photographs." _

_"O-okay."_

* * *

Chris narrowed his eyes at Yuuri with an eyebrow raised. The man was being terribly reticent and looked liable to fall over if anyone so much as whispered his way. When their lawyer had finally arrived to speak with them, Yuuri had swayed when standing.

Now the three of them were sitting around a dark oak desk in a windowless room, and Monsieur Roussel was bringing out a recorder to help him remember all they would discuss. Chris sat next to Yuuri, still worried about why he was twisting his thumb in one hand and shifting his foot every few seconds.

"Nervous, _Monsieur_ Katsuki?" Gerard Roussel asked, and Yuuri yipped and let his gaze fall to the floor as he nodded bashfully. Chris reached over and squeezed his shoulder to help reassure him, and to hopefully ground him, but it didn't seem to work. Roussel seemed to take it in stride, however, and settled across from them with a friendly smile.

He was a large man, broad shouldered and hipped with a brown suit that was well tailored, but hideous, in Chris' opinion. But, _c'est la vie_, he supposed. He wasn't paying the man to be fashionable, just intelligent.

"What is it you're nervous about, Yuuri?" Gerard continued once he was sitting, pushing the recording device, notebook and pen off to the side, for which Chris was grateful. At least he would give his full attention to them both before going over the information they'd be giving to the police.

"J-just…" Yuuri took a deep drink from his water and then sighed, "My previous lawyer from America said that he'd negotiated an immunity deal," Chris blinked, confused, and glanced at _Monsieur _Roussel, who didn't look surprised at the information, "And that if the police found new information that they thought I'd willfully not told them, that it'd… that I could get in serious trouble."

"Yuuri!" Chris gasped, his stomach sinking. He reached over for Yuuri's hand but the lawyer nodded solemnly and began speaking before Chris could utter another word.

"I'm glad you brought that up, _Monsieur_ Katsuki. It is what I wanted to talk to you about first." Roussel stated and pulled a couple papers out of a folder and slid them across for Yuuri to examine. "I spoke to Monsieur Gonzalez after receiving your emailed signature of transferring you to my care. He explained all the good work he did for you in Tokyo and I have to say, I am quite impressed by his dedication. But the deal he negotiated was not needed. Can you see the name at the top of that bank statement?"

Chris watched as Yuuri read the translated statement and nodded, "It's Viktor's account..?"

"_Oui_, and the transfer authorized on December 13, 12:42 in the morning?"

"Yes… that's…" Yuuri frowned and looked between Chris and the man who was waiting patiently for the answer. "That's what I paid Ivan. But… h-how?"

"Oh, Yuuri…" Chris said miserably, guilt wracking through him painfully, "_Mon petite chou, _I thought Yakov had explained, perhaps he thought that I had told you… the money we were using came from the accounts that Yakov was in control of on Vitya's behalf. Vitya made a terrible investment in a pyramid scheme when he was teenager, and afterward asked Yakov to handle his finances. Yakov managed his money and gave Vitya a generous living allowance but kept the rest in savings and investments for him. You used Vitya's money at the auction."

Yuuri's chocolatey eyes grew wider and wider as he took in the words being spoken. "Then… w-what does that mean?"

"All it means, _chéri_, is that you helped Vitya with a transfer to his husband's account, and went to a party that you were invited to - and then reported the illegal dealings that were going on at the party the proper authorities once you were safe."

"_What?" _

_"Monsieur Roussel, Un moment s'il vous plaît?1_" Chris asked and the burly man smiled encouragingly before stepping out of the door, giving them privacy. "Yuuri, I am so sorry, _chéri_… You must have been so worried…"

Yuuri was staring at him, dumbfounded, the bank statement clenched and wrinkling in his hand as he began to shake. "Y-you mean… I-I didn't..?"

"_Non, mon chou_, if we look at the letter of the law, you did nothing wrong, and that is what Monsieur Roussel is here for, to make the investigators understand." Chris explained patiently, trying to keep his face calm, but he was sure he was failing. Yuuri's own expression crumpled like tissue paper as tears started streaming down his face, fogging his glasses. Chris all but yanked Yuuri into a hug, not minding that his dress shirt was quickly getting soggy from his friend's sobs. "Oh, _mon ami, je suis vraiment désolé2… gomen nasai3…_ I thought you knew."

* * *

_"You said that Ivan Mochalin would sometimes host auctions. Were you ever present at them?"_

_"… A couple times." _

_"What happened?"_

_"… The first one, I wasn't s-sure what was going on. He told me to go stand next to someone when they said a certain n-number… I don't remember what number it was… but I did as I was t-told because I knew by then he'd hurt me if I didn't. But then they started calling out prices and… that's when I knew what was h-happening…" _

_"Were there other people that were sold too?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Do you remember what they look like? Well enough to pick out their pictures? Or did you ever learn their names?"_

_"I never knew their names, we weren't ever allowed to be together… but I might be able to recognize a picture… a lot of it is a blur, though." _

_"Alright, we'll have you go through some photos in a while. But you said you were only present at the auctions a few times. Do you know why you stopped going to them?"_

_"I-… Yes. It was my fault. Once, I secretly threw up the medicine Vanya gave me, and I tried to run and hit a couple people that tried to stop me. After that, I never went to them again, and I'd just be told to wait in my room or in another room for the um… for them to come." _

_"Do you know how many times this happened?" _

_"I re-remember seven nights… but I know there were more." _

_"How do you remember those seven nights?"_

_"… Because I tried to escape a couple more times, I think it was early on… and I threw up the medicine or tucked it under my tongue and spit it out. But… it just was easier to not remember… so I didn't do it very often after… after I… gave up on escaping." _

_"What happened-"_

_"Can we take a break?" _

_"Of course, Viktor. Will ten minutes be enough?" _

_"I suppose." _

_"If you need more time, let us know. We'll be back soon." _

* * *

Yuuri couldn't help the bounce in his leg as he sat next to Chris in the waiting area of the Federal Office of Police. The agents who had come to collect Viktor, and the lawyer Yakov had hired for him, for his interview had been different than the ones in Tokyo. There had been six of them, three pairs in differing uniforms that Yuuri didn't recognize. Viktor's scent was still nervous though not nearly as erratic as it had been earlier, and he gave his three companions a weak, encouraging smile as he stood to follow.

As the police and Viktor exited the waiting area, Yuuri turned to Chris and asked in a whisper, "Those aren't Interpol agents, are they?"

"_Non. _They were Swiss and Russian." Chris shrugged nonchalantly, "The Russian police would be the ones to actually make any arrests. They're the ones we need to help the most, Interpol just acts as liaison between all our countries to ensure all laws are upheld. And if Russia decides to pursue Molchalin, and think his crimes are international, or could be, Interpol will let all other countries know through a Red Notice."

"Oh." Yuuri thought back to his own interview. It had been a blur, but he did remember Japanese officers being in the room along with the Interpol agents, though they hadn't said or done much beyond taking notes and recording the audio. Yuuri and his lawyer had done most of the talking. Desperately he hoped that these officers were of better character than the ones he'd encountered at the Rostelecom Cup, the ones who had not deigned to interview the men and women who had been in Ivan's viewing suite when Celestino had tried to report Viktor's being there.

If Chris shared his apprehension, he didn't show it. The Swiss man was calmly leafing through a few pamphlets that were on display in the room. Levin, having finished giving Chris' lessons and his own practice, sat on Chris' opposite side and was surfing through his social media quietly. Each of them had been given a bottle of water and instructed to wait. Yuuri hoped he wouldn't be called back, though he knew it was futile. He was sure the Russian police would want to question him personally about what he saw. If they asked him to look at those pictures of missing children and young adults again, he was sure he'd vomit. 

"Yuuri?" Chris inquired, and Yuuri jumped at being addressed, as though he was waiting for another officer to come and get him, too. His companion frowned and sat up straighter and Levin tilted his head forward to see what had Chris concerned. "_Mon chou,_ what is wrong?"

Clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms, trying to stave off the anxiety that would send his entire body trembling, Yuuri shook his head and didn't say anything. Chris wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, but Yuuri was too strained to bend into the sideways hug.

"Hang in there, _chéri. _We'll be out of here soon, and we'll all go have a nice dinner, _oui?_"

"_Hai…_" Yuuri was able to murmur, keeping his eyes fixed on the beige tiled floors.

* * *

_"You said that you were pregnant at one point, yes?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Was that your only pregnancy?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Was it viable?"_

_"E-excuse me?"_

_"Did you carry to term?"_

_"… Yes. I did."_

_"Was the other parent Ivan Molchalin?"_

_"… N-no. It was… another one of the um… customers…"_

_"Can you describe the circumstances in which you became pregnant…? Viktor? Viktor! Are you alright?"_

_"I think it's best if we give my client another break, please. And perhaps some more water."_

_"Of course."_

* * *

"God, that took forever…" Viktor complained under his breath as the four of them left the building. Chris and Yuuri's interview had taken far less time than his own, and as he had been escorted out with his lawyer, he'd found they'd been in and out in the time he'd been recounting the awful memories, looking through photographs of suspected victims and alleged traffickers he might have encountered.

"It's over for now, _mon cher._" Chris sighed in relief, leaning against Levin with their arms linked together. "I say we go get dinner. It's been a long day for all of us."

"Yes, _please_." Viktor laughed hollowly, trying to shake the vestiges of the gloom that still laced his shoulders. Far from a burden being lifted, he simply felt empty, his eyes still swollen from crying and nose raw from the plethora of tissues that had abused it. Pausing, he realized Yuuri was not next to them and so he turned to see him trailing behind them at a slower pace. Out on the streets, in the open air and amongst the smells of the city, it was harder to pick up on what Yuuri was feeling, but it didn't take much to deduce he was feeling rather drained as well. "Yuuri? What would you like for dinner?"

Yuuri's head snapped up from whatever had him fascinated on the sidewalk and he smiled tiredly. "Whatever sounds good to you. I'm not picky."

Viktor scoffed and took a step toward him, looping Yuuri's arm through his to tug him along with their small group. "I've picked what to eat for the last five days. It's your turn. I don't think Levin and Chris would mind."

"Of course we wouldn't." and "You choose, _mon chou._" echoed a pace ahead of them and Viktor beamed at the backup the couple gave as Yuuri blushed under their attention.

"I-I don't know the options…" Yuuri muttered, and here Viktor had to rely on Levin and Chris to spout out the cuisine that could be found either close by or on the way back to their apartment across town, which they did enthusiastically. Viktor watched Yuuri's face closely as seemingly every nationality was named until 'Indian curry' was called and Yuuri's eyes flicked up in interest, though he still didn’t say anything.

"Curry it is!" Viktor nearly shouted and pulled Yuuri along faster now that a destination had been named.

"Vitya, the car is that way." Chris laughed as Viktor completely missed the turn and even Yuuri had to smile as Viktor squeaked and, hands on his shoulders, began pushing him in the opposite direction. He'd had enough sad faces for the day. Even if there was a cloud that still loomed, at the very least, he thought, they could enjoy a meal like normal people.

* * *

_"Thank you for looking through those pictures, Viktor. We are almost finished here."_

_"What else is there?"_

_"There is the question of unauthorized access to your accounts. Can you please take a look at these bank statements?"_

_"… What am I looking for?"_

_"As you can see, there has been no activity save for periodic deposits of returns on your investments. These were completed and managed by Yakov Feltsman on your behalf, is that correct?"_

_"Yes. Yakov has managed most of my finances for me for almost ten years… I wasn't very good with money when I was a child and I never got around to taking his name off the accounts before Van… I mean Ivan took me." _

_"It seems he has always protected your interests with integrity, until this transfer here on December 13, in the middle of the night." _

_"… That's… That's a lot of money." _

_"It is indeed. Normally we wouldn't be looking into your accounts, except for Yuuri Katsuki came forward and admitted he was provided a sum of money by Christophe Giacometti and Yakov Feltsman for your release. When Mr. Feltsman was contacted, he explained it was from this account and surrendered access to it willingly for our investigation. As this transaction was made with his authorization, and he has full permissions on your account, there would not normally be any questions about it, save for the fact that this large sum was given over to your alleged captor."_

_"… I don't understand what you're asking."_

_"We are asking if you would like to press charges against those three men, Yakov Feltsman, Christophe Giacometti and Yuuri Katsuki… is there something funny Viktor?"_

_"… No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh. But no. No I do not want to press charges against any of them."_

* * *

"_Viktoru?"_ a soft, sleepy voice came from across the room. Viktor was already smiling softly as he turned his head to see Yuuri approaching, rubbing his eyes under his glasses to try and fully wake up. "You can't sleep?"

"_Da._" Viktor said quietly, scooting his legs closer to his torso and gesturing for Yuuri to sit down on the window bench next to him. Yuuri slumped into the seat with a quiet 'oof' and yawned hugely. His hair was rumpled and sticking out in odd places, and his sleep shirt was all but hanging off one shoulder. "You too? Can't sleep?"

"I was thirsty." Yuuri mumbled tiredly and curled his knees to his chest and gave a gentle smile. "Are you okay?"

Viktor brushed his thumb over the fabric that he had entwined between his fingers thoughtfully, lips twisting into a slight frown as he pondered the question. "Yes and no."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Viktor couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest, canting his head to the side as he looked at the man sitting in front of him. "Yes and no."

Yuuri watched him for a moment and nodded, not pushing or demanding any explanation, though his blurry eyes did land on the pink square that was nestled across Viktor's knuckles as though that explained enough. Viktor really liked this about Yuuri, how he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter, how he was content to sit in the quiet stillness of the night as they both turned their heads to look at the streets below. Snow was falling slowly across Geneva, covering the city in a chilled blanket that would keep the earth sleepy until the sun warmed enough to wake up the ground. The warm embers of street lamps, signs and cars passing in a muted 'whoosh' - the sound swallowed by the dense clouds above as quickly as it appeared - gave the world an angelic glow.

Yet, as peaceful as the outside world was, Viktor's head in turn was buzzing with opposing chaos. It seemed his mind was always careening, as though the dullness his thoughts endured while with Ivan had only pushed the pause button, and now his brain was working overtime to compensate. If it were specific trains of thought, coherent and lucid, Viktor felt like he'd be able to handle it. What he hated was how none of it could be articulated. Everything flitted and bounced off the walls of his skull like static, one musing trying to take shape only to be derailed by the next unintelligible image. And it was _constant_.

Beside him, Yuuri shivered as his back faced the glass window. Shifting his hips, Viktor slid his feet to the floor and sat closer to the skater, plopping half his own blanket over Yuuri's thighs. Yuuri smiled up at him in thanks and Viktor returned it in kind. Another car lazily glided past the pane, illuminating part of the living room, and Yuuri's face, for a second before letting the dark take its place again. With a sigh, Viktor held up the handkerchief, offering it to Yuuri to take, if he wanted.

Reverently, Yuuri reached out and carefully picked up the fabric with both hands, stretching the square taut between them and examining it.

"They look like Makkachin." he commented quietly on the brown poodles and Viktor's smile was strained as he nodded, confirming Yuuri's thought.

"… It was one of the kindest things Vanya did for me." he whispered, his voice already thick with emotion as he watched Yuuri look at the varying poses of the fabric dogs, "He let me pick the fabric and I made a blanket out of it. Then I made this for myself. I'm sure he knew about this, and either didn't think it important, or he wasn't entirely cruel… I don't know which."

Yuuri nodded and was quiet for a beat before asking, "Which would make you feel better?"

Viktor was slow to answer, taking his time to weigh the options in his gut before shrugging. "I guess that he wasn't all bad. If… if he wasn't all bad, then I wasn't… as stupid as I feel. Like… maybe I was just hanging onto whatever little good he was and love blinded me to the rest." his next chuckle was bitter, a painful dark settling in the lining of his abdomen, "I guess I'd rather be a fool blinded by love than just an idiot who didn't see evil right in front of him from the beginning…"

Viktor watched as Yuuri chewed over his words, his eyes bright in contemplation even as his brow furrowed and his mouth frowned. Yuuri hadn't seen anything but the evil Ivan put out in the world, Viktor knew, but he'd seen all manner of sides to the man. The rare kindness that was offered, however, was always tainted, and Viktor shoved those memories back, unwilling to think on them just then, lest he break down into a trembling mess on Yuuri's lap.

"I think…" Yuuri began carefully, and it was clear to Viktor that he was choosing his words with caution and respect, "I-I think it's okay to think however you want to about him. Whatever makes you feel better, that's what you should let yourself believe. But… but maybe I'm wrong. I don't know. I just think it's important to do and think and feel however works best for you."

They let Yuuri's words hang between them, and Yuuri passed the handkerchief back. Viktor curled his fingers around it and sighed, eyes wet and throat tight, but he wasn't crying yet.

"Thank you." he murmured. Silence enveloped them once again, Yuuri waiting patiently and Viktor struggling with what to say next, or if he even wanted to say anything. One thought, however, kept creeping up to the forefront, nudging its way onto his tongue like Yuuri needed to know, or that Viktor needed Yuuri to know, he wasn't sure. Viktor swallowed and opened his mouth once, only to bite his lip nervously and swallow again. "The blanket was for my daughter."

Yuuri waited still, and Viktor felt a sickening chill creep over him that had nothing to do with the temperature at their backs. A clammy sweat pricked beneath his skin, but not over telling Yuuri. No, it was simply the worry he harbored, had harbored, ever since a wailing scream had echoed in a sterile gray room, knowing his one job was to protect, and also knowing he'd never be able to fulfill that job, that need, that instinct.

"Vanya… he…" Viktor clenched his teeth and steeled his nerves as best he could against the nausea that threatened to spill, "My daughter wasn't his. But she was planned… I… my… my stomach was rented out for almost a year so I could carry her for an alpha couple. One of them was completely infertile… and I guess… an omegan slave was cheaper or easier to rent than to go through the legal channels of adoption… or maybe it was because of my name, or my looks… or maybe they knew if they went through an adoption center they wouldn't clear their background check… I don't know for sure…"

Viktor felt Yuuri stiffen, could smell the rage grow in his scent as he explained. The flagrant, furious indignation was clear, and it wasn't directed at him but at his former mate. Viktor imagined this was something that laced Yuuri's scent often where Ivan was concerned, but he was only now able to sense it due to them sharing his heat.

"I got to hold her for a couple hours after she was born…" Viktor began again, and this time, the tears began in earnest, his breath choking him. "I… I didn't want to let her go… and when they came… I fought. I fought so…s-so h-hard…" Knuckles flew to his eyes, pressing deep into sockets like he could physically push the tears back, like if he didn't cry he wouldn't be as big of a failure, "I… I couldn't… I was… wasn't _strong_ enough… I couldn't pr-pro-protect her!"

Yuuri's arms were around his shoulders as he sobbed out the last, his chest heaving and air strangled and wheezing through the constricted channels of his throat. Viktor tried to curl in on himself, his head meeting Yuuri's shoulder and he nearly wrenched away, but Yuuri's grip was too strong and he collapsed against him. And he cried. He cried and sobbed and screamed against Yuuri's chest, at first trying to control it and then giving in to how much it _hurt_. He hadn't been strong enough then, and he certainly wasn't strong now as he blubbered humiliatingly in his sorrow. All his dignity left him as Yuuri just simply held on, not letting go and squeezing him so tight it was like Viktor would literally fall apart if he loosened his grip. He was sure that he would crumble if Yuuri did release him, so he stopped fighting. He gave up and just cried.

How long they sat there, Viktor didn't know, vaguely he was aware of a door opening behind them and a dismissive gesture from Yuuri that brought the door closed again - he supposed it was Chris and Levin drawn out of their sleep by the noise he was making. Once the throat tearing wails had faded into sobs then into pitiful whimpers, he heard Yuuri sniff harshly. Tentatively, he looked up and saw Yuuri also had tears staining his face. But it wasn't pity. He felt some of it too, Viktor realized, through their bond. And in that space, where they both tearfully held on, where they were both vulnerable, Viktor felt a scantling of strength wedge itself somewhere deep in his chest.

"D-do you want to find her?" Yuuri asked as Viktor leaned against him once again, needing the support of his friend as his body turned to a muddled mush. Viktor shook his head.

"It's… I don't know their names… I don't know how… Even the investigators weren't hopeful…"

"Do you _want_ to find her?" Yuuri repeated his question, firmer this time and Viktor whimpered, half in awe and half in despair. The scent of indignant rage mingled with a stalwart determination mixed in with his own sorrow.

"I w-want her back." he mewled softly, and Yuuri's arms tightened their embrace.

"Then we'll get her." Yuuri said. He pressed himself closer to Viktor, lending him some of the determination that forced his words. "We'll find her, and make sure she's safe with you."

"H-how?" Viktor whined, closing his eyes and not letting himself even dare to hope, but not being able to stop himself from asking anyway.

"I don't know." Yuuri answered honestly, and he moved even closer still. "But we'll do it."

* * *

**ISSUE OF INTERPOL RED NOTICE:**

[Passport Photo Included]

MOLCHALIN, IVAN

_Wanted by _ ** _Russia_ **

**Identity Particulars:**

Family Name: Molchalin

Forename: Ivan

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 17/07/1980, (37 Years Old)

Place of Birth: Village Stolbovo, Russia

Nationality: Russia

**Charges:**

Human trafficking and slavery, kidnapping, endangerment of humans including minors under the age of 2, purchase and disuse of drugs, abasement of human dignity.

* * *

**INVESTIGATIVE COMMITTEE OF RUSSIA WARRANT OF ARREST:**

**MOLCHALIN, IVAN - 12.2017 (MOSCOW)**

**Name: **Molchalin, Ivan

**DOB: **17.07.1980

**Age: **37

**Last Known Residence: **Moscow

**Last Known Whereabouts: **Moscow

_Omegan Enslavement …_

_Human Trafficking and Sales …_

_Child Endangerment, Under the age of 2…_

_Illegal Use of Drugs and Distribution…_

_Use of Drugs to Force Unnatural Presentation of Omegas…_

**Deadly force is not authorized unless in protection of lives of law enforcement officers or civilians. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Trigger Warning Summary:
> 
> \- Viktor explains he was held for five years
> 
> \- The investigators ask how often Ivan renewed Viktor's bond mark. Viktor explains that he isn't sure because the hormones made his memory fuzzy, but while he was pregnant he wasn't on the hormones and Ivan renewed it at the 5th and 8th month of his pregnancy, so he guesses every 3-4 months. The investigators state they need an imprint of the bond mark and need photos of Viktor.
> 
> \- Viktor recounts how auctions went, and explains that at first he was on stage to be auctioned but after making a large scene and trying to escape, Ivan kept him in his room for the other auctions. The investigators ask if he remembers any of the ones being auctioned and ask Viktor to look at pictures later to see if he can identify any. He states that he remembers 7 nights of auctions clearly because he threw up the hormones to try and escape, but admits that eventually he stopped trying and gave up. He asks for a break before the investigators can ask more about the 7 nights. 
> 
> \- The investigators ask about Viktor's pregnancy. He says that he gave birth to a baby that was not Ivan's and then breaks down when the police ask him more about how he became pregnant and Viktor's lawyer is the one that asks for a break this time. 
> 
> \- Viktor has just finished looking through the photos of missing persons and suspects of human trafficking, and the police state they're almost done. They give Viktor his bank statement for when Yuuri bought him, and Viktor explains how Yakov had always been his financial manager. They ask if he wants to press charges against Yuuri, Yakov and Chris. Viktor laughs and says no.
> 
> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Un moment s'il vous plaît?_ \- One moment, please?  
2\. _Mon ami, je suis vraiment désolé_ \- My friend, I am very sorry.  
3\. _Gomen nasai_ \- I'm sorry
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I'm actually very nervous about this chapter, as it took far more research than any of the other previous chapters, and I really hope I didn't muck it up. It was tricky balancing the logistics of police work, when I am not a crime writer, and then the emotional side of the plot. I re-wrote this chapter several times because of it, as I was getting bogged down in the technical and I was bored writing it, which means you might have been bored reading it. So I freely admit this is not my strongest chapter, but I hope it is interesting enough to keep you motivated to keep reading beyond this point haha. ^^; 
> 
> Oddly enough, it was easiest to find information on Interpol, they even have their Red Notices posted on their website so I could take a look at the format of them. Russian arrest warrants? Not so much. I found a few scanned images of what I think were arrest warrants, but as I do not read Cyrillic, I was not exactly sure... and hey - this is a fanfic after all, right? But I did my best ^^
> 
> Cops are coming for you Molchalin... (ง ͠ಠ_ಠ)ง


	12. Let's See Where We Wake Up Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Please don't see just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies_   
_Please see me reaching out for someone I can't see_   
_Take my hand let's see where we wake up tomorrow_   
_Best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand_   
_I'd be damned Cupid's demanding back his arrow_   
_So let's get drunk on our tears and_   
_God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young_   
_It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run_   
_Searching for meaning_   
_But are we all lost stars, trying to light up the dark?_
> 
> _~ Lost Stars, Adam Levine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
There are none that are marked, but they do reference Viktor's attackers in conversation several times, just for you know.

Yuuri shut his door with a soft click, pressing his forehead to the cool wood. After getting them both some water and depositing Viktor in his own room, Yuuri was left to sift through the moment they'd shared. Inhaling deeply, he tried to breathe off the tremors beneath his skin. While he didn't regret a single moment spent with Viktor during his heat, or the scent bond it had created, the emotions he'd just felt through it were almost more than he could bear.

He'd known sadness and sorrow in his life. The period of time after Vicchan's death had nearly destroyed him, among his other experiences growing up, and all of it had culminated into a deep depression that he just wasn't able to get out of alone. But what he'd just felt by proxy had been so _much_. Perhaps years of space had made his mind, in an attempt to protect himself from further harm, forget how awful it had been, or the therapy he'd been through in Detroit had made everything not seem so big. Regardless, he hadn't experienced anything else like Viktor's emotions, and he hated that Viktor was so hurt, so grief stricken.

Wiping his eyes, he tried to stretch and regulate his breathing. He'd promised they'd find Viktor's little girl in the heat of the moment, but now that wasn't seeming like it had been the wisest choice of words. If even the police weren't hopeful, there wasn't much more they'd be able to do. What could they do from Geneva, when his baby had been left in Moscow? And even then, there was no way to know if those who had taken her had remained in Russia, and there wasn't anything to say that Ivan would have that information either, or if he'd even turn on his so-called clients. Somehow, Yuuri doubted it.

Gritting his teeth, he made sure his alarm was set for the next morning. Viktor had asked him to call Yakov in the morning, to ask for his help, and Yuuri only hoped that the old man would have resources that they simply didn't, or at least some advice on a starting point.

He crawled into bed, still shaking, and flopped onto his stomach, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding against his rib cage. He continued practicing his breathing exercises, trying to calm himself enough to sleep at least a little before he had to be up for that phone call, and then practice after that.

As he lay there, he allowed his mind to wander. All in all, the day before hadn't been nearly as bad as he was expecting. He was immensely relieved at the information Chris had given him at the lawyer's office, and the interview had mostly been reiterating what happened in Moscow, from the time Viktor found him, the limo ride to the auction, the event itself and how he'd been able to leave. 

Yuuri had been furious when one of the Russian federal officers had told them they should have notified them instead of attempting it all by themselves, but Chris had clipped that train of conversation before it could derail everything entirely by reminding the agent the police had been the first ones they'd contacted. Chris had pointedly expressed his hope that with international eyes now on them, they'd do the right thing, and the Swiss agent had echoed the same sentiment. After that, the questions had been straightforward and thorough. Yuuri had left that meeting far more at ease that they'd actually do something.

Viktor said something similar while they'd been eating dinner, stating that the ones who interviewed him had been respectful and probably more thorough than he was entirely comfortable with, but that it was good sign that they asked for so much information. If they had no intention of doing anything, they wouldn't have sat through nearly five hours of an interview. He'd also told them of how he'd laughed at the question of pressing charges against them.

"I'm glad you used my account." he'd said with a sad smile, "It would kill me if any of you were to be in trouble over me."

Yuuri hadn't known what to say, didn't know how to explain that he would have done it again, even if things had gone badly for him, without it being creepy or self pontifying. He'd felt that way from the beginning, but that conviction had only grown stronger after actually getting to know Viktor. Before, he'd agreed to help, yes, because it was his idol, who'd inspired him to be everything he was, that needed help, but even more than that, it was because Chris had asked. Yuuri didn't have many friends, but those he did have meant everything. 

Yuuri knew what it was to feel helpless and hopeless. Through Phichit, Chris, Celestino and his family he'd been able to find the tools to put himself back together after his own rock bottom. Certainly he would do what he could when one of them called on him.

In retrospect, he knew if Chris or Yakov were more unscrupulous men, that he could have easily been swept up in something even worse, ending terribly for him. None of that had even crossed his mind, and he'd only trusted they would ensure his safety. They had come through more than he'd even thought possible.

But actually knowing Viktor was a complete surprise. The pedestal Yuuri placed him on had crashed years ago, when, on a drunken and wistful night at the Sochi Olympics, Chris had told stories about Viktor. How he was goofy and playful, forgetful in the best of times, sometimes vain, sometimes careless in how he phrased things, but how hard he worked and how much he cared. It had painted Viktor as the human he was, rather than the picture perfect ideal Yuuri had plastered all over his walls. If anything, Yuuri respected him more after finding out about the flaws and endearing quirks Viktor's closest friend remembered fondly. Now, Yuuri was able to see first hand what Chris had been talking about.

Viktor was also passionate, emotional, stubborn, and he seemed to be a bit lost in his newfound life, but was quickly adapting. Despite all of the emotional lows, Yuuri found himself enjoying Viktor's company very much. 

Everything he'd been through had definitely been worth it, he thought.

* * *

Another tear rolled down his nose, jumping from the tip to his cheek and then falling with a plop onto the pillow beneath his head. He'd finally stopped his wailing and had been able to stall the tears long enough to give Yuuri peace of mind about leaving him in his room so they both could get some sleep, but when the door had shut, the tears had rolled once again. They just kept coming, like dehydration wasn't something he'd ever have to worry about, and it wasn't even that he was in a particular amount of pain, he thought. Or perhaps it was just that the pain was such a constant that it was his normal and he finally felt safe enough to let them fall.

He knew it was late. The _tick tock_ that echoed from the clock on the wall noted the passage of time, and the dawn drawing closer. Viktor was both dreading and impatient for the sun peeking its way over the mountain tops that framed the city. Yuuri had promised to call Yakov. While he'd been texting the old man quite often, and had called once he'd been released from hospital, their communication had been light, reminiscent. Neither one of them wanted to fully acknowledge the weight of years spent apart, and it was an unspoken agreement that they were overjoyed just to be able to chat as they once did. It was why Viktor had asked Yuuri to help with the phone call. He would simply be too emotional, and if Yakov was anything but his normal gruff self it would send him spiraling further.

Viktor sniffed, trying to quell the tears that just wouldn't stop. Rolling his heavy body over, he fumbled for the tissues that sat on his bedside table and dried his face, not that it did any good. He wasn't even really crying. The sobs had been spent already with Yuuri, and he couldn't quite bring himself to totally care about the tears, save to alleviate the discomfort of having a wet face sticky with salt.

Blankets pulled up to his chin, handkerchief being rubbed between two fingers, he let his gaze wander until it settled, unseeing, on the window. If he could have registered it, shadows of fat snowflakes could be seen through the sheer curtains. Normally, it would have made him smile. Fresh snow had always been a favorite sight. As it was, all he could really see was the round face of a baby girl, red from screaming, but completely at peace as he cooed over her. Counting toes and fingers, marveling that her baby blues were far lighter than what he expected, and wondered if she would end up having his blue eyes because of it. What little hair she did have was already light. 

In the scene playing out before his eyes, he had succeeded. He didn't mull over the finer details, they weren't important, but he'd been able to get away, to escape to St. Petersburg with her. She loved Makkachin, and his beloved poodle was extraordinarily protective of her as they took their daily walks. Viktor pushing a pram with his baby facing him. And how curious she was! Looking around and anything and everything with bright, eager eyes that developed solidly as mirrors of his own. She could even get Yakov to smile, his tough exterior melting away as he held her and Viktor was able to practice. Somehow, his ankle wasn't as bad as what Ivan told him, or perhaps a magical surgery restored its mobility, and he was making a comeback. He wasn't worried, wasn't scared that anyone would find them. They were completely safe.

At his first competition for the Grand Prix, when Tatiana was about a year old, they both met Yuuri for the first time. Chris being the one to introduce them, of course. By then, Viktor was completely healed up, body and soul. If he'd met Yuuri that way, he likely would have asked him out on a date. Chris and Levin would have gone with them, and no one would mind him having a baby as they wandered the shops in… Paris. Paris would have been perfect. Maybe they would have stopped for some street food, or took shelter in a café to keep warm. By then, Tatiana would be walking. Toddling along in tiny boots, a thick, red winter coat, rosy cheeks, and her silvery hair in tiny pigtails. She was such a good and patient baby, but she did love to pull napkins off the table and throw the silverware on the floor. None of them minded, though, and Yuuri was so good with her. Of course he would be. He was so kind anyway, there wouldn't be any other possibility. But Viktor did have to teach him how to hold her so she wouldn't pull on his glasses too much, and when she did, he'd just laugh and then blush when Viktor told him how cute they looked together. 

As they all made their way back to the hotel, Chris would insist on carrying her. He would want some uncle bonding time, after all. It would leave Yuuri and Viktor able to talk about anything and everything, their favorite foods, favorite routines, what they each _really_ thought about the other competitors and giggle about the circuit gossip. Maybe their hands would brush together, making Yuuri blush that lovely shade of pink. It would continue until Chris and Levin had to say goodnight, but Yuuri and he wouldn't want the night to end. So they would go back to Viktor's hotel room. Nothing too serious would happen, not on the first date. They would just talk some more, drink tea, as Viktor put his little girl to sleep for the night in one of the cribs the hotel would provide. Maybe they'd watch a movie and fall asleep, inadvertently cuddled up on the bed,. When the alarm went off the next morning, they would both apologize with pink ears and laugh about the situation. Viktor would kiss Yuuri's cheek before he left, and they'd exchange their phone numbers. Tatiana would be awake by then, her head snuggled under his chin, curled in his arms as they both waved 'bye' to their new friend. 

Somewhere in the apartment a door opened and shut, and Viktor was back in the present, arms and heart aching. He didn't really need to look at the clock to know it was morning. His room was already too bright for it to be night, though the sun wasn't completely up yet. At some point, the tears had stopped falling, and he hadn't slept at all. 

He knew he should get up, should get into the shower, but the daze of his daydream hadn't completely left. It had been so warm there, so loving and _happy, _and he wasn't ready to relinquish it. So he stayed in bed, clinging to moments of him falling asleep with his little girl and Makkachin next to him, of feeding her soft carrots lightly sweetened with honey and cinnamon, of how her hair might smell after a bath or what her scent might have been. 

A little while later, there was a gentle knock on his door, but his throat constricted. He wasn't able to call out and say he was awake. The door opened a little ways, and for a moment, it wasn't the Yuuri he knew, it was the Yuuri from his fantasy, and he wanted to leap out of bed and give him a huge hug, and chuckle softly as he chided him for nearly waking the baby. 

"Oh! Sorry…" Yuuri mumbled quietly once he saw Viktor's eyes were open and fixed on the doorway. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was just going to make sure you were awake… if you wanted me to um… make that phone call."

With that, reality crashed back with visceral lucidity. Viktor took a shaky breath, and forced himself up on his hands, arms trembling with fatigue and melancholy.

"Are you okay, Viktor?" Yuuri asked, taking a tentative step into the room. "Do… do you need to sleep some more?"

Forcing a smile, Viktor shook his head. "No, I need to get up… Is it an okay time to call in St. Petersburg?"

"Well… it's seven here…" 

"Oh. Then yeah… it's okay to call there." Viktor finally swung his legs out of the blankets and planted his feet firmly on the floor, but when he stood, he ended up stumbling. Yuuri was there, pushing him back to sit on the bed again.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" His question was full of concern and Yuuri rubbed a circle soothingly on Viktor's shoulder. Viktor's smile tightened and he sighed.

"Not really. But I'm okay… I just need a minute."

Yuuri didn't look convinced, but he gave a small encouraging smile that couldn't hide the worry in his large brown eyes.

"Okay. Whenever you're ready. I'll… I'll just go tell Chris to start breakfast for you?"

"That sounds good." Viktor said softly, though the thought of eating made his stomach flip. Maybe after they talked to Yakov he'd be more hungry. Yuuri gave him one more glance to make sure he wouldn't fall over, and then left him to get ready. 

* * *

Yakov removed his red coat, tossing it to the chair that sat facing his desk, usually reserved for students that needed to take a moment to complain, or that he was in the process of scolding - usually for something stupid. Normally, it was Yuri or, in the past, it had been Viktor, sitting in that chair. Georgi hadn't needed to bawl to him over Anya in a few years, and had retired after the last season. If Georgi sat there now, it was just to catch up, usually after hours and usually with a glass of vodka in each man's hand. 

He wasn't thinking of anything in particular, save for the email that he was expecting regarding Yuri's music for the next season. It might have been early to be plotting the young man's next routines, but Yakov didn't have the title of a champion coach for doing nothing. 

From his mini-fridge, he pulled his water bottle and sat heavily in his desk chair, flicking the mouse to the computer to wake the damned thing. The wallpaper popped up and he couldn't help but smile fondly. The picture was from nearly a decade and a half ago. He wasn't nearly so bald, and Viktor's hair had still been long and tied up in a messy bun atop his head. Both of them were smiling, laughing, as Lilia had snapped the picture in front of the Eiffel Tower. A happy memory of touring around Paris when Viktor was still a teen, and Lilia had still been his wife. 

The photos of Viktor had been a source of pain for five long years. Fond memories tainted with not knowing where the boy he thought to be his son was, what was happening or what had happened to him. Yakov hadn't thought him to be dead, but he knew he had been nearing that conclusion. Five years had been simply too long for someone to be only missing, and yet, the texts on his phone over the last few weeks were proof of otherwise. His adoptive son had been _alive. _Had been kept and tortured just a few short hours away. Yakov had suspected Viktor had been taken by the secret lover he'd known Viktor to have, and had initiated several searches and private investigators in looking for the boy. Nothing had turned up. Instead of 'nothing' leading Yakov to other conclusions, it had only served to confirm that the man Viktor had been dating was smart, had planned it, perhaps from the beginning of their so-called relationship. 

So, when the answers came and confirmed his fears, and came from Yuri's biggest rival, of all people, Yakov's emotions had run the gamut of not having done enough, of the horrifying, gut wrenching feeling of being correct, coupled with the relief and finally, hope, of being able to speak to Viktor once again. It had been all he could do to resist going to Moscow and collecting the boy himself, or for flying to Switzerland immediately to take care of him once again. 

The only thing that had stopped him was that he knew Chris would be able to do it. Viktor was in excellent hands with his best friend. Yakov had always liked Chris, even if he was eccentric and a bit of a moron. Who the hell got aroused from his own programs and actually ejaculated on the damned ice? But that passion, in some sort of twisted way, was admirable. The only one that Yakov had known to have that much passion for the sport had been Viktor, sans disturbing fetish. 

He was taking another drink from his water, having just finished his morning session with Mila, when his phone rang out with the obnoxious heavy metal ringtone Yuri had set for Katsuki and Chris. 

"So you'll actually hear it, old man." Yuri had drawled, Yakov's phone in hand and his knees over the armrest of the metal chair where his coat currently sat. "I swear your hair decided to grow in your ears instead of on top of your head…"

Yakov barely had time to realize it was Yuuri, and not Chris, that was calling.

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" he said urgently into the receiver. 

_"N-nothing! I mean… something… ugh."_ Yuuri's frantic reply was halted by the sigh the skater always seemed to be emitting as he gathered his thoughts. Yakov was about to snap to spit it out when Yuuri continued. "_Viktor is fine, Yakov. But I am calling about him." _

Grunting, instead of snapping, was Yakov's only reply and he heard Yuuri shuffle a little on the other end. He knew that talking to him had always been a source of intimidation for Yuuri, even through the extensive phone calls that had taken place from the time Viktor had initially first been sighted to the excruciatingly long night in Moscow, but he couldn't find it within himself to really care. Chris had been the one calling to give updates Yakov couldn't get from Viktor, so Yuuri being the one to call was… odd.

"_H-has anyone told you about the interviews from yesterday?"_ Yuuri asked timidly. 

Oh, yes. Chris had definitely informed him of what had gone on the day before. Yakov had been wracked with guilt over not having explained to Yuuri that his safety hadn't been simply an afterthought, but he wasn't sure how to apologize to the young man. Chris had reassured him that there had been apologies enough from him, but Yakov knew he'd need to have a conversation with Yuuri about it. That would need to come later, though. All his thoughts were tunneled on Viktor.

"Chris called me last night. Why?" Yakov asked suspiciously. On the other end, Yuuri sighed again.

"_There's one aspect of it th-that Viktor isn't sure the police will be able to help with. S-so Viktor asked me to call to get your advice. He said he'd get to em-emotional if he had to tell you, so I'm helping him." _

"Spit it out, Katsuki." Yakov snapped, unintentionally. He was grateful that Viktor had found a friend in Yuuri. While the skater had a lot of talent, most of it underutilized in the hands of that Italian fop, Yakov had always liked that Yuuri wasn't the egotistical, demanding, skater that he so often encountered on the circuit. 

"_I-it's not..!" _Yuuri hemmed, and Yakov immediately felt a bit poorly about how he'd pushed. He'd learned that Yuuri didn't take pushing very well, that it sent his head running in the opposite direction. He was about to say 'sorry' when Yuuri did, indeed, spit it out. "_Viktor has a daughter." _

Yakov's world had stopped far too many times when it came to the subject of the boy he'd raised. From the time that Viktor's father had dumped him on his and Lilia's doorstep with a note pinned to his scarf at the age of ten, when Viktor had lost his virginity soon after that photo from his screensaver in Paris, from Viktor breaking three world records in one competition, to him finding out of his son's, his best student's, retirement from the television and not from the boy in person… And now, Yuuri was telling him that little boy who'd tearfully asked why his own father hated him had a little girl of his own. That Yakov was, effectively, a grandfather. He could already see a tiny girl, that looked just like Viktor, scared and alone, and in the hands of Ivan-fucking-Molchalin.

"Yuuri…" Yakov finally said sternly after a beat of silence, after choking on his own breath, "Are you telling me we left a child in Molchalin's house!?"

"_No!" _came Yuuri's emphatic answer, and he continued in a rush, "_He said that Ivan… um… The baby wasn't Ivan's. It was one of… one of _them_ and… Viktor wants to get the baby back, but the police told him they weren't hopeful about it…"_

'_One of them_.' One of Viktor's rapists. Viktor had a baby out of rape. He'd carried a baby conceived from unspeakable violence for nine months. Yakov's lungs had forgotten how to work, and a crumple of plastic in his free hand vaguely told him he'd clenched his water bottle, had cracked it with how the water was spilling over his hand and onto his track pants. Yakov wasn't one to cry often, but Viktor seemed to be the exceptional difference in the unemotional façade he'd carefully crafted. Tears sprung, but Yakov refused to let them fall. This wasn't about him. This was about his son, his boy, who had been through the unimaginable. He needed to talk to Viktor, needed to hear that he was okay, hear his child's voice.

"Put Vitya on the phone." Yakov demanded shortly.

_"But-"_

"I need to get details from him if he wants my help." he insisted, covering his own unwavering need to hear Viktor. He wasn't sure exactly why Viktor would want a baby that had come from his time in captivity, but he did know he'd never be able to fully understand it. If it was important to Viktor, he'd work just as tirelessly for the baby as he did when he'd tried to find Viktor. Though, he thought bitterly, he hoped he'd have better success this time around.

"_Be nice, Yakov." _Yuuri's determined voice came from the line, and Yakov nearly exploded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, but he received no reply. With a huff, he realized he'd not been very calm, that Yuuri was telling him Viktor needed him to be his father, not his coach. That line had always been blurred for him. Viktor and he had come up together, as it were, in the skating field. Yakov had been a junior coach, with barely a few years under his belt when he'd started teaching Viktor in private lessons. He knew how rare it was for a skater to have only one coach their entire career. Viktor and he had been the exception. He'd been promoted to a full coach at the time Viktor turned thirteen and was old enough to start competing internationally. He'd already been raising him for the three years prior. That wasn't widely known information, so he didn't expect Yuuri to know the depth of Yakov's love and affection.

There was a shuffling on the phone and finally, _finally_, Yakov could hear Viktor's voice.

"_Can you stay?_" he said from somewhere off the line, and Yakov understood that he'd asked Yuuri to remain with him. For a split second, Yakov wondered how close they had become, how much Chris had not told him, but that was a question for later. "_Hi Yakov…" _His heart hurt to hear how timid Viktor's voice was, how difficult the subject must have been for him. "_You're on speakerphone, but it's just me and Yuuri…"_

It was further confirmation that Yuuri had become far more important to his son than he'd anticipated, but he replaced the pin in that question. "Vitya…" he began, surprised by how his own voice sounded a little choked, but kept going in English so that Yuuri would be able to understand. If Viktor wanted him there, Yakov would respect it. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"_I-… There's been a lot going on, Yanya…" _Viktor said miserably, "_I didn't know how to tell you… and with the hospital, and my heat… and I don't know who her father is, I don't know how to even begin to find her… I don't know if we can find her. I told the police about her yesterday, but they weren't hopeful… but I'll hate myself forever if I don't at least try. She…" _Yakov heard a stifled sob, "_She was the only good thing that happened, Yanya… I love her, so much, and I only got to hold her for a little bit before they… took her. But I need to know she's safe, that she's not being hurt, too! Please, Yanya? I can't… I can't live with not knowing…"_

_Oh, Vitya…_ Yakov thought, his heart breaking further. He didn't believe it was possible. Viktor had always had so much love to give, had been bright and happy even through abandonment and pain. 

"We'll try, Vitya." Yakov promised, and Viktor's sharp gasp hold an edge of hope. Hope that Yakov knew full well might never be fully realized. One thing he could fully empathize with was that Viktor didn't know where his child was, and he suddenly hated Molchalin all the more for putting Viktor through what Yakov had been suffering for the last five years. Throughout all of it, Yakov had constantly thought it couldn't get any worse, thought that now they could all move on and pick up the pieces, but now… Now, he knew that Viktor wouldn't be able to completely move on, just as he hadn't been able to. "I can… I'll hire some private investigators, Vitya. We'll start looking. You said the police are looking, too?"

"_Da._ _But… they said they likely wouldn't be able to find her if Vanya won't talk… if they can find him." _

Yakov nearly snorted at the way Viktor referred to his former mate. He knew it was likely out of habit, that Ivan had likely insisted on the affectionate nickname. That didn't mean that Yakov didn't hate it, that it didn't make him recoil with every fiber of his being. Yakov tossed the broken water bottle he was still holding in the trash beneath his desk and began mopping up the mess he'd made. He had a task. A task was something he could do, a way he could be useful. 

"What's her name?" he asked. Her name wouldn't be important to the private investigator. Whomever had taken the baby would have likely changed it from anything that Viktor had christened, but how they would talk about her, how they would call her in the meantime while they looked would be important to his son.

"_Tatiana._" Viktor said, and Yakov could hear the fond smile beneath the nasal tone of Viktor crying. "_Tatiana Viktorovna Nikiforova_. _I call her Tanya._" 

"Tanya." Yakov let the name roll off his tongue, and he couldn't help but smile a little, too. "It's beautiful, Vitya. I'm glad…" he paused, suddenly remembering that Yuuri was likely still listening in to the conversation. He didn't like the idea of another knowing his emotional side, but then shoved it away. His son needed him, not his skater. "She sounds like she brought some happiness to you. We'll do everything in our power to find her, Vitya." 

He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and head beginning to pound, running through a list of private investigators that had been good, and those that had been terrible and a scam. There were two or three he'd trust to take the information and run with it, that might get somewhere now that they knew where Viktor had been kept, and by whom. Viktor was fortunate in his search in that they had more of a starting point than a dead end bank account that had paid for his retirement announcement and an empty apartment with a hungry dog. 

"_Thank you, Yanya…"_ Viktor said reverently, and Yakov smiled again, letting their shared affection sit between them in silence for a moment. Then, clearing his throat, Yakov sat up again, pulling up the list of contacts he'd used before on his computer.

"Vitya…" he said with a warning in his voice. "I don't want to ask this of you, but I need to know everything you remember. Do you know Tanya's birthdate?"

"_September eighth, two-thousand fourteen."_ Viktor said confidently and Yakov startled before typing in the date. He'd thought that Viktor hadn't remembered much during his time in Molchalin's hands.

"How are you sure?"

"_The doctor was reading a newspaper while I was… in labor. I asked if it was that day's paper, and he said it was. I don't know if he was lying, but I caught a glimpse of his phone when he checked the time and it said the same date." _ Viktor explained and Yakov breathed a sigh of relief. It was more information that they could use, and it was likely that the date had seemed so inconsequential of a fact that the doctor didn't think Viktor couldn't know. "_He'd been filling out a birth certificate form, and I saw him put down the eighth as her date of birth, and the time she was born was two twenty-seven in the morning. He left her name blank, though. And I didn't tell him what I was naming her… I never told anyone until… until I was safe." _

That was Yakov's suspicion's confirmed that the baby's name wouldn't be the same, but he typed up the information Viktor was providing. "Did he put his name?"

"_I don't think it was his real one. Vanya called him 'Dmitry', but he wrote down 'Immanuil'… I think the last name was Duboff or Dubow… I didn't catch the father's name." _

Yakov took down the information. "And you gave all this information to the investigators yesterday?"

"_Da. I told them what I could remember of… of her being conceived and everything I could remember of being pregnant. Vanya had the hormones stopped for most of that time, so it's clearer than… everything else."_

Yakov paused in his typing. He'd not even thought about how the synthetic hormones Viktor had been constantly dosed with would have needed to be stopped for a pregnancy. Fighting the sick that threatened to spill up his throat, he forced himself to continue typing. 

"Vitya. Any private investigator I hire will need that information too."

"_… I know." _Viktor's voice was tight, guarded. Yakov sighed, rubbing a thick finger between his eyebrows, trying to smooth out the perpetual scowl that had grown deeper since Viktor's disappearance.

"Send it to me in an email. Chris has my address." The silence at the other end of the line made him wonder if Viktor had decided to hang up after his extremely personal and difficult request, but a look at the screen told him the connection had not dropped. "Vitya?"

"_You finally succumbed to technology and got an email address?!" _Viktor was laughing incredulously, the tightness in his tone still under the teasing. Yakov grumbled something about being a necessity of the times, which, to his delight, only made Viktor giggle harder. It was a relief, to hear Viktor still able to joke in the face of what could only be a very stressful encounter. It meant his son was still there, still alive. His time away hadn't completely destroyed him. But as the laughter faded, Viktor sniffed and promised to create a new email for himself to send the information. "_Thank you, Yakov…" _he finished softly.

"Hm." Was the automatic response that Yakov had conditioned himself to grunt out whenever any gratitude was expressed toward him. Inwardly, he kicked himself. Conditioned responses weren't for his boy, not when it came to this, and he followed up quickly: "Whatever you need, Vitya."

"_Okay. Spasibo… again. Is… is there anything else?" _

Yakov stared at the still nearly blank document in front of him. The little he had written was certainly more than he'd had than the first time he'd been through the process. With the promised email, he'd have even more - but what would help, truly help, was something he wasn't sure he should, or even _could_, ask of one who was just at the precipice of putting himself back together again. Yet, if having Tanya would allow Viktor to truly move on, even if Yakov couldn't fully understand why, the request needed to be made.

"Have you considered going to the media?"

"_What?" _Viktor was suddenly breathless, the question immediate and a knee-jerk revulsion. Yakov was familiar enough with that response, and he did not hold it against him one bit. "_Yakov… No… I can't." _

"Listen to me, Vitya." Yakov said firmly, plowing through. "At some point, your face is going to be in the news. It would be better if we were ahead of rumors and speculation. Coming at it with an honest explanation would enable you to have more control. You were once in command of your image, and Russia loved it. The public will be outraged, and if you ask for their help, you will have the whole country on the lookout for Tanya. If she's still here, we will have a better chance of finding her. It would also stretch beyond our borders. You know how much Americans love a cause to rally behind."

There was heavy, frantic breathing through the speaker and the panic was contagious.

"Vitya?" he asked urgently.

"_Enough, Coach Feltsman…" _a firm, but soft, voice answered him. It was closer to the phone, and Yakov understood Yuuri had taken the phone, and he was no longer on speaker. "_It's too much." _

"Is he alright?" Yakov asked, worry slanting his words to be sharper than he intended.

"_No." _Yuuri sighed. Yakov echoed the exhale and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the gray ceiling above him. He really should have someone fill in the cracks in the aged plaster. 

"Chris has suggested the same thing." he told Yuuri. "Not about Tanya, but having him give a statement about his whereabouts these last years, and announcing a comeback to skating as a choreographer or junior coach in training."

"_For who?" _Yuuri was clearly wary. 

"You, Katsuki."

There was silence on the other end, and Yakov looked at the screen again.

"_We can talk more about it later… Let's just… g-get the private investigator going first."_

"He can't wait too long. Someone is going to notice him if he goes out in public with you. Chris said you have a press conference announcing your training situation on Tuesday?"

"_U-um… Yes. That's right." _

"It would be best to do it then. Sooner would be better."

"_I-I know… But… it's a lot." _

"See what you can do, Yuuri. Take care of him."

"_I'll… I'll do my best." _And there it was. Yuuri's determination and stubbornness. Yakov was once again glad that the skater was on his son's side. Not many men would have been able to do what he had already done. Fewer still would have uprooted their entire life for someone they'd only just met, and met under the worst circumstance. 

"Tell him I’m also sending his old clothes and some of his belongings. If there's anything specific he wants, have him text me."

"_I will. Thank you, Yakov." _

"Shastlivo."

"_Bye. Oh! And um… h-happy New Year."_

"Ah - um. You too."

Yakov pressed to end the call and sat still, phone dangling from the hand dangling over the arm of his chair. He didn't know how long he sat there, but it was long enough for a rough two punches to land on his door and a blond head to stick through it.

"You coming, old man? I can't get this fucking spin right and Beka's tired of trying to show me how."

Blinking back to the present, where he had students and duties beyond what Viktor needed, he shook himself out of the shock from the phone call. As he stared, or rather, glared, at his current best student, and near second son, he realized he wouldn't be able to focus on any sort of coaching for a few hours.

"We're pushing your practice back."

"… What?" Yuri demanded, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Spins in the afternoon, Yura. Get out of your skates. We're going to Lilia's."

Yuri blinked, trying to register the words and failing. "What the fuck for?"

"Vitya." was all Yakov offered in explanation, and he picked up his heavy over coat and hat, jamming it on his head and shoving his arms through. When he had his winter clothes on and turned to see Yuri still staring in shock at him, he frowned and barked. "Now, Yura! And get that boyfriend of yours to come along."

"Alright! Jesus…" Yuri jolted back to moving, and bolted from the door. 

* * *

However else Yuri had been planning on spending the day, spending it elbows deep in his hero's old socks and underwear was not one of them. Yakov and Lilia weren't what he would peg as overly sentimental, but clearly, when it came to Viktor Nikiforov, they made an exception. Otabek and he had been in Viktor's childhood room for several hours already, sifting through old clothes. Some of it Yuri recognized from interviews or the small glimpses he'd caught of Viktor when he was still brand new to the rink, back when he had been too overwhelmed to truly approach the champion. 

With a growl, he tossed another pair of boxers in the 'throw away' pile. Whatever had possessed Yakov to do this house cleaning instead of practice, and on New Year's Eve no less, Yuri didn't dare ask. Yakov had driven through the snowy streets of St. Petersburg like a madman on a mission, Otabek and Yuri crammed in the back seat and holding on for dear-fucking-life as they skidded around icy corners. 

One look at his coach's face was enough to tell him not to push it. Just a year before, he probably would have. He would have ranted and balked at being taken away from the precious ice time that was so carefully scheduled and parsed out like rations in a famine. There were some things he had simply learned the hard way, and when Yakov's face looked like he was about to erupt in either creative obscenities that even Yuri would never think of, or like he was going to cry, Yuri knew to stay silent. 

"What about this one?" Otabek asked, nonplussed and going with the flow of the day, despite the sudden change in plans. Yuri looked up at the shirt his boyfriend was holding up and snorted. It was bright pink, with a heart and a badly drawn Makkachin on it, words proclaiming it was from Viktor's "Number One Fan". 

"Probably keep it…. But not send." Yuri mumbled, tempted to just dump the entire box he was sorting through in the trash. It all seemed to just be underclothes and socks, and why anyone would want five year old work out socks was beyond him. "Yakov always says that Viktor loved the shit he got from his fans, but I don't think Yakov's going to send him all that crap." 

Otabek nodded obediently and folded the shirt carefully and placed it into a half-full box that had been deemed as 'for later', meaning Yakov expected Viktor to come back and sort things himself. Why Viktor would ever want to return to Russia, Yuri also didn't know. If he were Viktor, he'd take the flight to Switzerland as a one way ticket and never look back. It was a bittersweet thought. Viktor had a chance at a clean start in a whole new country, far away from the people who had tortured him. Yuri thought he should take it, but Yakov seemed to be holding onto the hope that Viktor would still, somehow, return. 

"What are you doing?" Otabek raised an eyebrow at him as he picked up his phone and swiped over to his camera, holding it up to frame just how much of a swamp clothing in which he was sitting. 

"Showing Viktor just how dumb he was to keep all this shit."

"You realize he probably thought he'd still be using it."

Yuri grunted and snapped the picture. "Yeah, well… It might make him laugh."

He refrained from chucking his phone at his stupid boyfriend's stifled smug smile whenever he admitted doing something kind of nice. That had been a frequent expression Otabek had worn over the last couple weeks. Yuri had found himself snapping selfies with Makkachin and Potya for Viktor, shots of Lilia's borscht, or sunrises over the river that looked nice. For Viktor's part, he'd gushed and sent far too many heart emojis in response. Yuri personally thought there should be an automatic limit on how many hearts someone could send in a text message, but he liked that it seemed to make the man happy, so he kept putting up with the cheesy responses. 

His phone roared, the tiger sound he thought was cool signaling a return text, and he found himself once again rolling his eyes at hearts. 

"See?" Yuri grumbled, showing Otabek his screen. His boyfriend leaned over and the corners of his mouth quirked.

"Looks like you were right."

"I’m always right." Yuri sniffed offhandedly, and set his phone aside for the moment. They continued to work in mostly silence, save Yuri's increasingly frustrated mumbled expletives over _another_ pair of designer briefs. Yakov had stepped out to rearrange the schedule at the sports complex, but returned and also settled himself on a plush armchair, the color a faded lavender that Yuri thought belonged in a babushka's living room, and took a box for himself to sort. Yuri didn't think anything of it, another box, another bunch of worn tees or track pants. So when Yakov inhaled sharply, Yuri's head shot up.

"What, cut yourself with the box opener or something?" he asked when Yakov continued to look down, seemingly not even remembering he and Otabek were still there. Yakov jumped slightly at the sound of Yuri's voice and Otabek looked at him uncertainly. The Kazakh was closer, so he knelt forward, looking at what had Yakov silent. 

"Oh." He said softly, turning his brown eyes to Yuri's green, "Viktor's costumes."

"What?! Lemme see!" Yuri lunged forward, knocking over the still half full box of underwear in the process. Kneeling next to the box Yakov had just opened, he couldn't help but grin as he recognized some of the fabrics and patterns of the costumes that were folded neat and tight, and packaged in plastic. 

"He had them all hanging up in his coat closet." Yakov grumbled. "No garment bags, no protective covers. Nothing. He said he liked to wear them around the house when no one was looking but his dog."

Yuri bit back a laugh, and even Otabek let a small chuckle out. "Bet you _loved_ that." Yuri teased as he pulled some of the clear packages out to examine. 

"'Course I didn't. What if he needed them for an exhibition skate later?" Yakov growled, the sarcasm either lost on him or purposefully ignored. It didn't stop Yuri from using it, even if his coach always took his words as literal. Yakov continued, clicking his tongue, "He was always so irresponsible…"

Yuri didn't have a biting remark at that, knowing from previous cuffs over the back of his head that Yakov was the only one able to insult Viktor in Yakov's presence. He'd been able to get away with more than most, rumors flying around that Yakov even kicked one of his students to Moscow after a particularly bad argument over Yakov holding all his students up to Viktor's standard. 

Yuri didn't think that was true, at least in his experience, or else he likely would have been referred to another coach, himself. And then there was Mila and the newly retired Georgi, along with the two others he hadn't met that Yakov was coaching. He knew that Viktor was practically raised by Yakov and Lilia, but for anyone to suggest Yakov didn't know how to leave his home life at home was ridiculous. This was the first time he'd experienced Yakov needing to focus on Viktor outside of the few weeks he'd taken off after Viktor had disappeared. Yakov had always been nothing but professional. 

The way that Yakov was looking at the box now, though, made him worry. He'd never show it, of course. That would be beyond embarrassing. But something in Yakov's face said he wasn't all there, not in the present, anyway. The old man was lost in thought, frowning, and his eyes staring past the costumes and into a distant fog that Yuri couldn't comprehend.

"Think I can wear one for my exhibition at the Olympics?" Yuri asked, trying to jolt Yakov out of whatever funk he was in. He didn't look at his coach, and stiffened his shoulders, waiting for Yakov to rap him on the back of the head as a reminder to not be facetious. When it didn't come, he looked up at Yakov, whose hand was slightly raised but was only staring at him.

"You can ask him." Yakov mumbled and leaned back in the ugly lavender chair. "It would be a fitting tribute."

That was the last thing Yuri had expected, and he nearly scoffed. Nearly. Something needled at him about it, and it actually sounded exactly like something Viktor might think 'amazing' - if his over use of the English word was any indication. But it seemed like his tactic had worked, if not in the way he'd expected. Yakov was now looking at the box with a purpose, placing some aside as 'maybes' for Yuri to wear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###  Author's Note:
> 
> Hello! After a mini-unplanned-hiatus, we are BACK! I am so sorry it took so long to post this. Long story short: Drama at old job, got new job, trained for new job, family drama, personal mental health crisis... ALL SOLVED. And now I can write again. I was also very, very stuck on this one, there was so much that I wanted to add into it! And I still feel it's lacking, even though there's over 8k words here, but I keep reminding myself to be patient with the story and let it tell itself the right way so we don't rush through everything. And 5 (_FIVE_) drafts later, here it is!
> 
> But I AM very excited for the next chapter. There's more bitterness, but I'm hoping it'll be mostly sweet. There's a hint as to why somewhere in this one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ### Reader Poll:
> 
> The hazards of writing mean that there are always ideas bumbling around in your head about new stories. I have like 6 that I want just for the YoI universe, some omega, some not... but I'm too much into the omegaverse right now to write the non-omegaverse ones. In short - I have two that I'm having trouble picking between - both will get written at some point, but I wanted to know which you might be most interested in first. 
> 
> This fic is my main priority, but sometimes it gets a bit wearing because of how dark it is, and I would like something to break up this heavy angst. So, of course, I came up with two ideas that have a very different sort of angst. So let me know in the comments, or on Twitter, or on Discord (Saeren D'Pity#1369) which one you'd like most. 
> 
> 1 - A more traditional omegaverse/soul mate universe where Viktor is an alpha and a world famous musician, and Yuuri is an oppressed omega that has lived in an omega house for most of his life where he has been 'conditioned' to be an alpha companion to the point where his personality is all but erased. They meet by chance and as soul mates/fated pairs they are thrown together by the machinations of the universe. It is essentially about Viktor helping Yuuri to discover his own identity. I want to explore the psychology of self identity along with the dynamics of society constructed roles of partners only being relegated to a submissive/dominant role in a relationship. Viktor wants an equal partnership, but Yuuri doesn't know what that means, how to achieve it, or if he even wants it.
> 
> 2 - A Regency-style fic, because there aren't enough Regency YoI fics imho. In this, Viktor is alpha again and Yuuri is omega, and they both grew up together with Yuuri's family serving Viktor's in Japan before the Nikiforov's are called back to Russia. When they meet again, it is in the middle of a social revolution that threatens Viktor's family. Yuuri is thrown for a loop when he meets Viktor as an adult, as he has very many different personalities he puts across, and he can't figure out which is the true Viktor. This omegaverse is crossed between traditional and the one I have built in this fic, with a few surprises along the way. I'll be borrowing from Miss Austen, Miss Charlotte Brontë, and Baroness Orczy. This one is very ambitious, and will demand a very different kind of research, but it's an exciting new challenge!


	13. Give Back a Hungrier Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've been watching your kindness keep_   
_A lonely company_   
_Look at the fire and think of me_   
_I've been watching you creep_   
_Around my wandering feet_   
_Trying for years to flee_   
_I need not one thing more_   
_Oh, wrap the ground around_   
_Your gentle winding mind_   
_Oh, guard the pounding sound_   
_Breathe in your fiery air_   
_Oh, wrap the ground around_   
_Give back a hungrier stare_   
_Oh, guard the pounding sound_   
_You be the moon I'll be the earth_   
_And when we burst_   
_Start over, oh darling_
> 
> _~Begin Again - Purity Ring_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning:   
Nothing to worry about here, dears.

Viktor stared at his phone with his updated calendar. When he lived on his own, he had lived and died by the app. It had everything. His meals for the day, his practices, cross training, workouts, meetings with his publicist, booking agent, doctor appointments, competitions, travel itineraries, times set aside for shopping, dinners with Lilia, and even, for that one year, dates with Ivan. The only thing he didn't schedule was when he'd walk Makkachin, because that was the first thing he would do when he woke up and then again right before he went to bed, and he had a pet sitter that would take her out on days when he couldn't make it home for lunch. 

Now, it held so little. So why was he looking at it like it was the most insurmountable mountain he'd ever encountered? Chris had helped him schedule the follow up at the recommended omega specialist they'd received from Dr. Durand at the hospital, and in the middle of the week he had his first of several therapist interviews that were spread out over the following days. It was thoughtful to schedule everything so far apart, so he wouldn't be doing everything in one day. He'd had a sports therapist at one point in his life, but going to therapy for what had happened seemed so… redundant. He didn't want to talk about what had gone on in the past five years. There had been enough talking about it in the last few days, and he was so _tired_ of talking about it already. 

He was still staring at the schedule when Chris walked behind the couch with a basket full of clean laundry propped on his hip.

"Something wrong, _mon cher?_" he asked, placing the basket on the back of the couch and peering over his shoulder. "Did I double book you somewhere?"

"No. Not at all." Viktor said softly, closing out of the app and tossing his phone to the cushion beside him. "It's fine. Thank you."

"Did you put in the press conference?" Chris' voice was gentle, but Viktor still stiffened with his stomach rolling. Going to the media was the last thing he wanted to do, wanted to face. He would rather be stuck in therapy every day for hours than sitting for a fifteen minute interview that would be spliced and parsed to be the Tragedy of Viktor Nikiforov. It would live on for a few weeks, if he was lucky, and then be forgotten until someone decided to search his name on the internet. What they would find would be the articles, and then a foot note of how he had, once, been a terrific skater for Russia. His kidnapping would become his entire identity to his home country, and it was the last thing he wanted. 

Yet, he knew how right Yakov was. If he were to go to the press about his beloved daughter, perhaps it would increase their chances of finding her. It could also increase her chances of being hurt by her captors who might panic. Then there was the fact that Ivan hadn't been found, and would surely go into hiding if Viktor's face was in the news, if he wasn't already squirreled away somewhere. He knew twenty-four hours was too soon to hope for Ivan's arrest, but it didn't mean he hadn't wished that Ivan had been found at their formerly shared penthouse the second the arrest warrant had been issued.

"No. Not yet. I haven't decided."

"Okay. Well, just let me know. Yuuri said he could ask his favorite reporter to do an exclusive interview. Said he's respectful and not too pushy."

"I know." After the phone call earlier that morning, Yuuri had explained the rest of what he'd discussed with Yakov, and had offered to arrange something with a man called 'Morooka', if he decided to take his coach's advice. "But shouldn't it be from a Russian reporter, if I’m talking about Tanya?"

"Oh, _chérie… _It will be all over the world in minutes. The internet has only got faster these last few years." 

"That's not surprising. But I should- I don't know." He took a deep breath. "I should call my lawyer. See what would be… prudent to share, if anything. If Vanya sees it before the police get to him, he'll be even harder to find..."

"It's your call." Chris put a supporting hand on his shoulder with a squeeze. "But I think calling your lawyer is a good first step. Might help you with your decision."

He was still for a moment, his mind going to how the rest of the morning had gone. Yuuri had helped him explain to Chris and Levin about the conversation with Yakov. They'd gone from the sympathetic mortification of his daughter's situation, to Chris' gentle enthusiasm for the idea of Viktor announcing a return to skating in a coach-like capacity. He'd never considered coaching before. His career shouldn't have been over as soon as it was and he hadn't planned for anything after retirement. He'd only been nearing his peak, after all. There should have been a few more years to think about it.

Chris had explained his idea stemmed from giving Viktor a legitimate reason to be in Geneva, give him a new source of income to start filling the hole the auction left in his account. Viktor shoved the thought of a new job away, no matter how much it made sense. He didn't want to think about it when the question of whether he'd be in front of the cameras for something else entirely was far more pressing. There was so much to do, so much to think about, and he was getting overwhelmed.

"_God!"_ Viktor cried, hands flying to cover his face as he grunted in frustration. "It's like my head is defective. I can't think of what the best thing is, what I want, what I should _do! _ What do I do, Chris?"

"I don't know, _mon cher._" Chris sighed, rubbing his back soothingly. "Should Lev and I stay home, tonight? We can talk it out together, explore your options."

"No…" Viktor shook his head and gave his friend a weak smile over his shoulder. "You two should go out. Enjoy your night and not be bogged down with something so depressing. Take a break from the drama."

Chris hedged, frowning. "You know I'm not upset you're here, right? You being here is the best thing that's ever happened, and everything that goes along with it."

Viktor chuckled bitterly, "Don't let your husband hear that."

"He'd get over it." Chris said confidently, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Viktor's head. "In fact, he'd probably agree."

Viktor accepted the kiss with a small smile and then pushed Chris' head away. "Hush up and go primp. Let your lover take you out for a night on the town, kiss at midnight, get drunk on strawberries and champagne and do all the sappy things you always wanted to do for New Year's when we were kids."

"Only if you're going to be okay."

"Yuuri's here. We'll be fine. And if not, there's always your cat to talk to."

"And you'll call if you need anything?"

"Oh my god, Chris. Go!" Viktor giggled exasperatedly, springing to his knees on the couch cushion and shoving his best friend bodily away. Chris laughed and then gave him a look, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"Help me choose an outfit, _chérie? _Just like old times?"

* * *

Practice after the phone call with Yakov had gone well enough, considering there had been more than a few distracted moments from both himself and Chris. 

"How was my free leg that time?"

"… Hm? Oh, I'm so sorry, _mon chou…_ Show me again?"

Yuuri didn't hold it against his new coach. His free leg was sloppy for the same reason Chris hadn't actually seen him spin. Their thoughts were back at the apartment, with Viktor, who had elected to stay behind to compose the email Yakov requested in peace and quiet. The problem with peace and quiet was that it also meant he was alone. While Viktor had insisted it was what he wanted, Yuuri, Chris, and Levin had all caught his face falling from a forced smile to a grimace before they had shut the door, his cheerfully waving hand falling limp to his side. The speculation turned confirmation that all three had witnessed it on their walk to the rink nearly had Yuuri bolting back to the apartment. He likely would have, had Chris not had his arm linked through his, had not tightened his grip firmly as Yuuri's footstep had faltered to turn back. 

"It was his decision to stay behind, _chérie_. We'll go back as early as possible, _oui?_"

'Early as possible' meant almost four hours later Yuuri spilled into the apartment after figuring out how to unlock the door with Levin's key. Chris stayed behind to finish up with his junior skaters' questions, and to wait for Levin to finish his own practice. Yuuri panted heavily as he searched the rooms for any sign of Viktor, finding him in a deep sleep on the couch.

Viktor's eyebrows had been knitted together, even in sleep. Yuuri's laptop was on the floor next to him, and the screen showed a 'sent' folder open in Viktor's email. There was only one email in it, addressed to Yakov. He folded the computer shut and picked up the knitted throw blanket from the armchair opposite, gently placing it over Viktor, and consequently the cat, who meowed her protest at being disturbed. 

"_Gomen, _Jolie…" he shushed her, scritching the back of her ears apologetically before she bobbled her head to shake off his touch and how the blanket had upset part of the fur on her head. Viktor barely stirred, to his relief, and he went to the office that served as his current bedroom. 

He sat down on his bed to plug in his phone charger, and the next thing he was conscious of was the sounds of Chris and Viktor laughing at something in the main room. An impromptu and unintended nap had interrupted his plan of taking a shower while Viktor was asleep. Which brought him to how he was now letting hot water pound on his shoulders in the bathroom he shared with Viktor, trying to convince himself that sniffing the shampoo that Viktor used would definitely be inappropriate. 

He then chided himself for the fanboy thoughts that would still invade his mind, despite actually getting to know his hero through compromising situations. Years of hero-worship turned into immense guilt, now that he knew Viktor, his situation, what he'd been through. It still didn't stop the moments when he'd catch Viktor's smile, or a playful wink, in happier moments, and his breath would hitch in his throat, still not quite able to wrap his head around the fact that he was now rooming with the man who had plastered his childhood bedroom walls.

Shutting off the hot water, he quickly dried and dressed, still toweling his hair as he exited Viktor's bedroom. In the living room, he found Levin reading a book with Jolie curled in his lap, a steaming mug in one hand. The man looked up at him with a smile as Yuuri looked around the rest of the open floor plan, which was oddly devoid of the other two.

"They're in our bedroom." Levin answered his unasked question. "Fashion show for Chris' outfit tonight. I'm not allowed." 

"Oh." was all Yuuri could think to say, though he smiled at the thought of the two best friends doing something much like what he and Phichit would do when his roommate had a date. He was making his way to his own room when the alpha continued.

"I might not be allowed, but you are. Maybe you'll make sure my husband doesn't go out into the snow in booty shorts?" 

Yuuri hesitated from pushing his door open, looking back to Levin who had buried his nose back into his book, sipping his hot drink nonchalantly like he didn't notice Yuuri suddenly feeling like a third wheel. He took a deep breath and passed his bedroom and knocked softly on the master room's door.

"No alphas allowed, _mon amour!" _Chris voice sang from behind it, nearly at the same second Viktor cracked it open and his face lit up.

"No alphas, but cute betas are!" Viktor chirped, grabbing Yuuri's wrist and yanking him in before snapping the door shut on Levin's laughter echoing from the living room. "Chris was just asking about our plans for tonight. What do you think?"

Yuuri was still recovering from Viktor calling him 'cute', hoping that his red cheeks would be passed off from just having been under a hot stream of water. He was just relieved he hadn't walked in on Chris modeling the aforementioned booty shorts. In fact, the omega was in a sheer maroon button up with a velvet embroidered suit jacket. He looked very nice, indeed. A pile of clothing that must have already been discarded as options was on the bed. Viktor bounced next to the pile and smiled up at Yuuri expectantly.

"Oh, um… I don't know. What do you want to do, Viktor?" he asked, several seconds too late. Viktor placed a finger over his lips, humming as he thought.

"If either of you say 'binge-watch Netflix until you fall asleep', we're going to have a problem." Chris chimed in as he shrugged off the suit jacket and threaded a hanger through the sleeves. "Acceptable answers include ' an obscenely loud dance party at midnight', 'setting firecrackers off the balcony', and 'breaking your diet with a lot of carbs.'"

"You're a terrible coach." Viktor chided with a laugh and shoved the large pile of clothing off to the side and patted the plumb paisley bedspread as an invitation for Yuuri to sit down. When he did, Viktor turned to him with his knee tucked under his opposite leg. "New Year is a big holiday in Japan, right? What do you normally do to celebrate?"

Yuuri stumbled through an answer that included how Phichit would drag him to parties and bar crawls, with him only tagging along as a designated driver. He mentioned how he would like to call his family that evening, and then asked Viktor how he usually celebrated. It sounded much the same as Yuuri's experiences, except instead of study groups from college, he would spend it with his rink mates at a party for all the skaters, hockey players included, where everyone would get drunk, sing, dance, and then collapse on any surface that wasn't littered with bottles of vodka or food.

"Wh-what do you normally do, Viktor?" Yuuri asked, and then amended with a trailing question. "I mean… b-before..?"

"It was always a day off on New Year's Day." Viktor took Yuuri's question in stride, grinning as he reminisced on happier holidays, "So we'd have a party for all the rink, since most of us were away from family. Lots of vodka, which led to lots of singing and dancing, and then we'd sort-of watch the President's Address, drink more, sing more, call our families if we could, and then fall asleep on whatever surface wasn't covered with glasses or food. No designated drivers for us."

Yuuri personally thought that sounded very intense, but kept his opinion to himself as he laughed along with the other two.

"That still doesn't answer the question of what you're doing tonight, _mes amis." _He laughed, starting to hang up and fold the clothes that were on the bed. Viktor jumped up to help and Yuuri sat there uselessly for a moment, then started handing articles of clothing to Viktor. "I encourage the singing and dancing, but no drinking, Vitya, until the doctor clears you for it."

"I'm kind of put off of anything that will make my mind fuzzy anyway." Viktor shrugged good naturedly, turning to hang up the re-hangered shirts. "So it just might be Netflix shows and carbs and phone calls home."

"Pity, _mon cher. _Yuuri is an excellent dancer. Quite scandalous, at times."

"_Chrisu_!" Yuuri yelped, dropping a shirt he was about to hand to Viktor, whose blue eyes began to shine curiously.

"Are you, Yuuri?" Viktor sounded far too excited by the prospect.

"J-just ballet! And um… some break dancing to build up core muscles… Phichit made me." Yuuri couldn't look at either of them. Yuuri knew he was omitting one very embarrassing discipline of dance that Chris knew of, and he quickly shot the man a glare, begging him to not extrapolate. When Chris just gave him a knowing smirk, but thankfully held his tongue, he turned back to Viktor, "I-if you want to dance, we can."

"Why don't we just see where the night takes us?" Viktor winked, smoothing over Yuuri's embarrassment easily. "Oh! Chris, do you have the ingredients to make Olivier salad?"

"Ah, that's right, your favorite! We probably have most of it." Chris laughed. "Though I don't think we have pickles or potatoes."

"Mm, never mind then. Those are the best parts." Viktor shrugged with a slightly sad smile. Yuuri perked up, and idea forming in his head.

"We could go to the store?" he offered, "Isn't there a grocery close by?"

"There is, but they'll be closing early for the holiday." Chris grinned at Yuuri's offer, a grateful fondness in his eyes. "So if you're going to go, you should go now. It shouldn't be too busy."

"I'm sure Yuuri is tired from practice." Viktor said quickly, "It's silly to go out just for two things."

"I'm not!" Yuuri insisted, perhaps too enthusiastically, already latching onto the prospect of making sure Viktor had his favorite salad. "I took a nap, and I was thinking of trying to make a variation of soba, which is a tradition in Japan. I'll need some things too."

Yuuri could tell Viktor was still hesitant, but his excuse was waning, making his resolve dim. He opened his mouth to reply but Chris spoke first.

"And we need more milk." Chris added to the list, acting as though it was a done decision. He pulled out his wallet. "And if you'll be making your salad, we'll need more eggs. Take my card."

"But-" Viktor began to protest, but Yuuri interrupted again.

"I'll go get my wallet and phone!" He stood up, and took Chris' offered credit card with no intention of actually using it. At the very least, he could help with the grocery bill. He turned to Viktor before rushing out, "Why don't you go get your hat?"

* * *

It was mere moments of scrambling to get ready before Chris shoved them both out of the apartment, tossed reusable grocery bags at their feet, and locked the door behind them. Viktor huffed with the fake glasses askew on his nose and Yuuri's old beanie on with his hair poking out at odd intervals around his face, Chris having shoved both onto his head before Viktor had a chance to protest the trip again. 

"I guess we're going to the store!" He chuckled exasperatedly at Yuuri, who gave him a sheepish smile as he picked up the bags. "Do you know the way?"

"Vaguely." Yuuri held up his phone that was opened to the maps app, he'd barely had a moment for Levin to type in the address before Chris had tugged him away by the collar of his shirt. "This will solve the rest, though I might need your help with the French."

"We'll be completely lost if it's a German store." Viktor laughed as they got into the antique elevator to take them to the first floor. Yuuri giggled along with him as he tugged on mittens and looped a flu mask over his ears. 

Yuuri kindly waited for Viktor to tuck the tell-tale silver strands of his hair under the beanie and they exited the building, both of them still chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"What else is in Oliver salad?" Yuuri asked as they began walking, and Viktor told him of the Russian potato salad, how it was made. "And it's your favorite?"

"_Da_. Lilia always made it best."

"Lilia?"

"Oh, Yakov's ex-wife. She and Yakov practically raised me. I lived with them both for a few years while they were married."

Yuuri nearly faltered in his footsteps, and Viktor reached out a hand to steady him before they continued their leisurely pace.

"I didn't know that." he said softly and Viktor smiled down at him. Of course Yuuri didn't know about it, not many people did.

"We didn't really talk about it. We thought it might cause people to accuse Yakov of bias in his coaching. And Lilia, she taught ballet to Yakov's skaters for a while, but I was always a hopeless student." Viktor explained with a chuckle, remembering her counting time in French while in her studio, it was how he'd learned the language, after all. He missed her, terribly, and guilt bore down on his shoulders as he continued, "… I haven't called her, yet. After she and Yakov divorced, I lived in dorms with other skaters until I could get my own place, and she and I sort of… drifted apart. She got busy with the Vaganova Academy and I spent too much time with Yakov with training, and I think it sent the message that I was on his 'side' when they split up."

He noticed Yuuri listened with rapt attention. It seemed as though he was struggling with the new information, like he didn't dare ask the circumstances that brought Viktor to live with his coach. Viktor didn't elaborate, not wanting to recount another moment in his past that he frequently ignored. The memory of his father pinning a folded note to his scarf as they were in the car and then commanding him out into the damp streets of St. Petersburg, a full three blocks from where Lilia still lived, his school bag heavy with a few pairs of clothes, his skates, and not much else, invaded his mind. Shoving it away violently, he bit his tongue. It didn't surprise him that his father was a faceless person in his memory, he barely remembered anything from before that moment anyway.

"Maybe give her a call tonight?" Yuuri offered gently after a few paces of silence, and Viktor nodded with a sigh. 

"I should. I should have called her a week ago…" he shrugged, the casual gestures belying a heavy weight that rested on his shoulders. "Yakov said she was concerned about me. I just… I really don't know what to say. 'I'm sorry for disappearing on you for five years and you not being one of the first people I called even though you were practically my mother for six years, but I promise I really do care about you,' sounds a bit… I don't know the word in English. Too casual or harsh, maybe."

"You didn't disappear on purpose." Yuuri reminded him. "She knows that." 

"I know." Viktor sniffed heavily and it had nothing to do with the cold. Turning his face toward the street, they walked on in silence, with a Japanese voice echoing off Yuuri's phone giving directions on which way to turn. Viktor slowed to a stop as he caught sight of the lake in the space between a few buildings, somewhere in his mind he was vaguely aware of Yuuri continuing around the corner without him, but it didn't register. The winter sun was low in the sky, and if it weren't for the mountains on the other side, he could almost imagine it being St. Petersburg, looking out into the Gulf of Finland.

A couple was across the street, strolling with a few shopping bags in their hands as their arms wrapped around each other's waists. They, too, paused and looked out over the view, and Viktor smiled bitterly. Clearly they were in love. He was reminded of how happy Ivan and he had seemed, and how foolish he had been to be drawn in by charming smiles, elegant dinners, and tailored suits.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but he sensed Yuuri coming to stand next to him, clearing his throat timidly.

"Are you alright?"

"Just thinking."

"... Can I ask about what?"

Viktor inhaled sharply and moved his shoulders again dismissively, turning to start walking again so he didn't have to look at another couple's happiness, "I guess a bit about what we talked about last night. How stupid it was to get caught up with Vanya in the first place."

"Oh." Yuuri's face turned forward, and they continued in silence for a few paces before he glanced up again. "I guess I can see why anyone might be um… taken in by him."

That caught Viktor by surprise, and he stopped their trek. Yuuri turned to see why and Viktor could only stare at him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, it was Yuuri's turn to shrug, "W-well, he wasn't bad looking, and… he must have been really nice to you before, be-because you're not stupid, Viktor. I only saw his bad side, but… I think I agree with you, that he can't have always been evil. Like… I don't really want to understand what made him the way he is, but he couldn't have been evil as a child, right? And I know I changed as I grew up, but there's still a part of me that is the same as I was when I was a kid... M-maybe it's the same for him, and he just used that good part to do bad things?"

As Yuuri gave his theory, a lump had formed in Viktor's throat, rising rapidly to the surface before he sniffed and wiped his nose. In reality, Yuuri was still a stranger to him, even if they had shared much in their short time together. Yet, here he was, offering the simplest of comfort - validation of Viktor's tumultuous and conflicted thoughts. Viktor didn't actually think himself stupid, and never truly had, but he'd been left with no other explanation when looking back at his own memories. He swallowed thickly and looked at the ground, teary eyed and unsure of what to say next. 

His vision filled with Yuuri's dark winter boots, and he felt the fringe of silver hair that had escaped the beanie being lifted away from his eyes so Yuuri could look at him.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, _ne?" _he whispered. Viktor tried to blink the tears away, but only succeeded in making them fall onto Yuuri's gloved fingers.

"Did you really mean it?" Viktor asked, "That you don't think I'm stupid?"

"I-I meant all of it?" Yuuri tried to smile up at him, and used his thumb to wipe away the tears his mittens hadn't caught. "But no. I've always thought you were really smart. I liked watching your interviews because you knew what you were talking about, and you didn't avoid the hard questions."

Viktor chuckled and finally glanced up into Yuuri's warm gaze. He grasped Yuuri's hand and pulled him along to get them walking again. He didn't even notice that he didn't let go. "I almost forgot you were a fan."

Yuuri tugged at the flu mask that had slipped down his button nose, turtling himself into its warmth and Viktor grinned at him. "I-I just… thought you were um…"

When Yuuri's words failed him, Viktor voiced another question, one he hadn't quite gathered the courage to ask. "Is that why you agreed to help?"

"P-part of it, I guess… it didn't hurt when I was trying to convince Ivan why I-I had… bid so much." Yuuri's eyes shifted to the street, away from Viktor.

"He… _asked_ you about that?"

"Just… why I had bid so much. And since he knew I'm a skater, it wasn't too far a stretch t-to um… admit that I was a fan of yours. Someone… else was there," Yuuri's tone turned icy, "And he kept fighting me during the… bidding p-part and I had to have a good reason. I'm really sorry, though!" he turned back to Viktor, expression earnest and worried under the mask, "I'm sorry I used your skating career and I'm sorry that I used so much of your money! I just… I just couldn't let anyone else… not when I could do s-something."

"Yuuri!" Viktor interrupted urgently, "I'm not mad, not at all! I'm just… I'm sorry, too, that you had to use something that… inspired you for something so… awful."

It was Yuuri's turn to cry, it seemed, as his face twisted and he tore his glasses off his face to press the heel of his hand into his eyes. "I-I didn't want to, but… If it meant a chance that you'd be okay…"

Viktor had always been terrible with people being emotional in front of him. He wasn't sure if it was the Russian in him, or just that he naturally avoided any serious emotion off the ice - preferring to use skating as his own therapy in bygone years. Not letting himself think too much on it, he pulled Yuuri into a tight hug, and the shorter man crashed against him with a soft sob.

"Please don't worry about that…" he said quietly, "I would have given him all of what I have left in my accounts a long time ago if it meant being free of him…"

Yuuri nodded against his shoulder and inhaled deeply, taking a step back, though Viktor still didn't release his grip. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed he'd needed the hug just as much as Yuuri did, and Yuuri didn’t fight him on it.

"I'm s-sorry I'm such a mess…" Yuuri tried to laugh as he sniffed and replaced his glasses back on his nose, pulling his mask down to wipe the damp trails from his cheeks. Viktor smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, again, for getting you into all of this…" Viktor murmured. Yuuri frowned, opening his mouth to protest, but Viktor continued, "But you know what? It's New Year's Eve! It's time for new beginnings, right? Let's just take the time to celebrate and be glad that everything did turn out, okay?"

Yuuri's beautiful honeyed eyes shone and he quirked a small smile, one that Viktor was a little sad to see hidden as he replaced the mask on his face. "Yeah. That sounds good."

The store turned out to be only five or six blocks away, and, of course, was German. Though all the packages also had French subtitled or French brands, much to their relief. It was a surprisingly large supermarket, and Viktor could vaguely remember Chris bringing him to a similar one on a previous visit, though that memory didn't help them much. 

Yuuri pushed the cart along the aisles. They took them one by one, Yuuri occasionally asking about a package's contents when it looked interesting. Viktor had to laugh when Yuuri found packages of instant ramen and soba, sheepishly throwing far too many for just that night into the cart and then asking him for help in finding boxed broth, saying he'd only use the packages for the noodles themselves. 

For a moment, they stood arguing over apples versus pears in the produce section, knowing they only had four arms and six bags between them and trying to keep their purchases minimal, each of them encouraging the other to get their own preference. Viktor grinned as Yuuri stuffed a bag full of apples, which were Viktor's choice, and huffed away, and then promptly filled a bag full of pears, resolving to carry both on the way back. As Yuuri was placing their purchases, Viktor darted around to an end display, grabbing a couple boxes of poppers and small noise makers, and then as an afterthought, a few chocolate bars. He intended to make Yuuri take Chris' advice and break his diet for the evening. Returning just in time for Yuuri to give him an exasperated look at the additional last minute purchases as he packed their cloth bags.

On the way back to the apartment, arms now laden with goodies for the evening, their conversation was much lighter. Viktor realized it was much like his fantasy from the night before, Yuuri explaining some of the gossip he'd heard on the circuit and each of them telling the other of favorite dishes and experiences on their travels (turned out, Yuuri had a weakness for American burgers, so long as it wasn't from a fast food chain). Viktor was filled with both warmth and longing, wishing he had a stroller to push in front of them, complete with babble and cooing. Or perhaps Tanya would be talking by then, he wasn't exactly sure. He realized then that he would need to order as many child rearing books as he could, if their search would turn out successful. He knew next to nothing of how children grew, and would want to be armed with as much knowledge as possible. 

The conversation between Yuuri and he had lulled as he got lost in thought again, but both seemed content to walk in silence. Viktor thought back to their conversation with Yakov, then the later one with Chris, and realized that he'd do anything to make the rest of his fantasy a reality. With that goal in mind, there really wasn't much else to consider. He'd find a way through whatever came with it. He only hoped Yuuri would agree. 

"I'll do it." he said softly, testing the words. Yuuri's gaze tore from a display window they were passing and fixated on him.

"What was that?" Yuuri asked, and Viktor wasn't surprised he hadn't heard him.

"I'll do it." he affirmed, louder this time. Yuuri still looked confused until he clarified. "I'll do the press conference. I'll be your junior coach, or apprentice coach or whatever the title is, if you'll have me, and I'll make a public plea for Tanya."

Yuuri stood still, stunned at his declaration. His brown eyes grew as the words registered and his cheeks turned pink.

"I-I'll… I'll be honored to have you." Yuuri stammered out, "But… are you sure?"

Viktor nodded, his lips set into a firm line. "I'm sure. If… if you don't mind the speculation that it's going to cast on you? It might not reflect well on you, to have me on your team, and I don't want to take the spotlight off you as you're going into the Olympics. You deserve every good thing that would be said about you in the media without me, and I don't want to take that away."

"You won't!" Yuuri insisted, stepping closer to him, and might have even put his hand on Viktor's shoulder had it not been occupied with their groceries. "A-and even if it does happen that way, it'll make the world keep an eye out for your daughter, for longer. I… I want to help, o_negai…_ Um… I mean, please."

"It's not going to be pretty."

"I know."

"The paparazzi might follow us in the streets."

"I know."

"We still have to ask Celestino if it's okay."

"I know. But I'll convince him."

"I still need to talk to my lawyer, make sure what I can talk about in public."

"Okay. Whatever you need to do."

"It might not even work… Tanya might not ever be found and-" Viktor's stoic reciting of his concerns were cut off with Yuuri clapping a mittened hand over his mouth, a bag of milk and fish hitting his chest as it dangled off Yuuri's elbow. 

"But it might work!" Yuuri's voice was soft, firm; the cinnamon eyes above his flu mask were set and determined. "Stop trying to talk me, and yourself, out of it, and… b-be my coach, Viktor?"

* * *

"_Mon Dieu,_ I send you out for milk and eggs and you return with an epiphany!" Chris threw his arms around Viktor, smacking a loud kiss on each of his cheeks. "Welcome to the team, _mon cher!"_

Yuuri couldn't help but smile along with Chris as Viktor flushed with embarrassment. He was helping Levin put away the groceries, watching as the other two flew into a rapid conversation in French.

"Logistics." Levin explained quietly to him, "Viktor will need a work visa, but Chris has already started the paperwork."

"H-he knew?" Yuuri stared at Levin, his own knees still weak with the announcement. Whatever gumption had possessed him to, literally, stop Viktor listing off his worries by putting his hand over Viktor's _mouth_ had left him. The way Viktor had gaped, blushed and then grinned would be something he would never forget. When Yuuri had quickly apologized, yelping and jumping back, Viktor had just laughed and began pulling him along the rest of the way back. 

"No. He suspected, hoped. But are you okay with it?" Levin asked, leaning against the countertop. For a moment, he appreciated Levin's easy attitude and understanding. They'd talked a little over the years, but actually living with him meant he had found a quiet friend in the half-Japanese man. He didn't actually speak Japanese, having grown up in Southern France, but because of his heritage, had developed a healthy following in Japan for his ice dancing.

"I'm…" Yuuri faltered, pausing in putting the pears in a fruit bowl with the apples. "I think I'm still in shock…" He looked up at Viktor who was frowning in thought as Chris seemed to be listing things to him, perhaps a to-do list. Yuuri smiled fondly, "But yeah. I'm okay with it." 

Levin's green eyes sparkled knowingly and he gave Yuuri's shoulder a reassuring pat. "It's a good start. Perhaps it might lead to something more?"

Yuuri stared, trying to understand the alpha's meaning. Once it clicked, his eyes widened before he twisted his mouth into a frown. He pointed the pear in his hand at the alpha's chest, all previous appreciation gone.

"You're as bad as your husband!" Yuuri accused in a hushed tone. "You pretend you're not, but you are."

"Can't marry an eccentric without being a little eccentric one's self, _non?" _

"Yeah, well… I’m on to you…" Yuuri muttered, a blush blooming on his cheeks as he finished his task. Levin laughed openly, a pleasant and rich sound that only made Yuuri's frown crease more. He huffed and pushed the empty cloth bag into Levin's hands.

"Ah, thank you for your hard work. Isn't that what our countrymen say?"

"We also say 'the mouth is the origin of disasters.'" Yuuri mumbled as he began to wash and peel a root of ginger, only to have Levin laugh again. 

"Yuuri!" Viktor said from the countertop, leaning over it. Yuuri jumped and turned, hoping that he hadn't heard any of the conversation he'd just had. "I've just had the best idea! Why don't we take turns doing different traditions from each of our countries, or other countries we've been to?"

Yuuri couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "That sounds good!"

Viktor beamed and then turned back to Chris to continue whatever conversation they were having, though it seemed like it was a lot lighter of a subject.

"We French also have a saying," Levin mused casually, "'We see well only with the heart.' Keep it in mind?"

"Aren't you going to be late?" Yuuri asked, moving over to a cutting board and not looking at him. He hoped his childhood crush wasn't so obvious to Viktor himself. Even if Viktor hadn't just started recovering from trauma, Yuuri wouldn't do anything to act on it. He was very happy, elated, to just be friends - it was more than he'd ever hoped for. "Have a good night out with your husband."

"You as well, Yuuri." Levin chuckled and left him to continue preparing a ginger cucumber salad. 

It didn't take long for Viktor to join him in the kitchen, pulling out potatoes and beginning to wash and peel them. 

"It sounds like Chris has it all figured out for me." he started. "All I have to do is sign a few forms and I should have my work visa as soon as three weeks, but I'll start on Tuesday after the press conference." 

"After the conference? Are you sure?" Yuuri asked, not wanting Viktor to tire himself out. It was bound to be an extremely emotional day.

"I think I'll need the distraction." Viktor said quietly and Yuuri nodded in understanding. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Viktor smiled and piped up cheerfully, "So, what traditions should we try first?"

They settled on helping each other make the salads, Viktor showing him how to mix the peas, carrots, ham, pickles and mayonnaise and then Yuuri in turn showing him how to cut cucumbers into ribbons just the way his mother did. They had just set the cooked potatoes into the refrigerator to cool when their two flat-mates reemerged from their bedroom, both looking a dashing pair with Chris in his maroon shirt and gray jacket and Levin in a navy dress shirt and a jacket to match his mate's. 

After reassuring Chris for the upteenth time that they would call if they needed anything, the omega pulled a bottle from his wine rack and pushed it toward them.

"Sparkling cider." He grinned. "Since you won't be imbibing, you should have something to celebrate, _oui?_"

Yuuri quickly put the bottle into the fridge with the potatoes as Viktor ushered Chris toward the entryway amidst more offers to stay behind, that they really didn't have to go, and Levin hooked his arm into Chris' fretting one and Viktor pushed them out the door in the same way they had been shoved out a couple hours prior.

"I don't remember him being such a mother hen!" Viktor gasped as he rejoined Yuuri in the kitchen. Yuuri giggled and handed Viktor a package of salmon flakes, which were the closest thing he had been able to find to the dried fish he would normally use to make soba.

"He just cares about you. But now let me show you how to make a bastardized soba." 

It turned out that both of them had good enough skills in the kitchen to make at least flavorful simple dishes. Yuuri might have been a little more adept, having grown up helping in the _onsen _and from cooking for himself and Phichit in Detroit, but Viktor had also lived by himself with a strict skating diet for a little more than half a decade. They both agreed that one could only stomach grilled chicken breast so many times before it became stale, and to save their taste buds they had explored different seasonings and vegetables. 

Both of them laughed themselves into stitches as Viktor retold how he'd once accidentally served a lasagna with feta cheese instead of the traditional ricotta, because he'd not had time to go to the store, at a rink potluck and how no one had realized he'd been the one to make it. In turn, Yuuri told him of how he and Phichit had tried to cook a banana dessert with flaming rum, emphasis on the flame, and nearly lost their apartment lease as a result. 

They decided on watching a popular Russian film that was popular to view on New Year's Eve as they enjoyed the dishes they were just about finished preparing, as well as toasting the new year with Chris' gift of the cider. Yuuri didn't bring up dancing again, and nor did Viktor as they went through childhood memories of what each had done to celebrate the holiday. As the subject turned back to the phone calls they wanted to make, Yuuri realized with some horror that in three days time his whole family, and Phichit, would realize just what had actually gone on in his trip to Moscow, would realize the real reason he was in Switzerland and not with his coach in Detroit.

"Um… Viktor… before…" Yuuri began, not quite knowing how to piece together his question without sounding offensive. The other man simply looked on patiently, waiting for him to spit out the words which only made Yuuri flush in embarrassment. "Viktor, I never told my family o-or my best friend, Phichit, about um…"

"You didn't tell them about me?" Viktor supplied helpfully and Yuuri shook his head.

"No. I-I didn't think it was my place t-to tell them, without asking." Yuuri explained further and Viktor gave him a kind smile, even if his eyes were slightly apprehensive. "And I still won't if you don't want me to, but… if you're o-okay with it, I'd like to give them a heads up before the press conference."

"Of course, Yuuri!" Viktor chuckled. "I'm assuming your best friend is this Phichit I've been hearing so much about?"

"Y-yes. That's him. He's… he's been with me through the hardest times, and was my roommate and rink mate in Detroit. He's another one of Ciao Ciao's students." Yuuri's eyes grew wistful as he spoke of his best friend. "He did my makeup and took care of the bruises after Moscow and w-was respectful, but it was difficult for him."

"You must care about him a lot." Viktor sniffed, and Yuuri couldn't identify the slight sour edge to his voice, and scent, but it was quickly covered up. "Then you should tell him! And your family?"

"They will be understanding, but I'd like to give them a warning before, um…"

"Before the world knows I'm here too."

"E-exactly." Yuuri smiled gratefully, "But only if you're okay with it. None of them will say anything, of course! My parents don't really know much about skating, and my sister is really good at keeping things to herself, and Phichit knows… well… H-he knows how the press is in our world, probably better than most."

"Of course I am!" Viktor laughed. "I trust you, Yuuri. I'm sure they've been very worried about you. Especially if they saw your poor eye after…" he broke off and shrugged awkwardly. "Go ahead and tell them on your video call, if you want to. If you need me to say hello to help clear the air, I will."

Yuuri giggled at the thought of Mari's and Phichit's faces if they were to see Viktor Nikiforov on the screen with him suddenly, "Mari and Phichit would both have heart attacks! … But thank you, Vikt-" Yuuri squeaked as Viktor coiled his arms around his middle in a swift hug.

"No, Yuuri. Thank you for being so thoughtful." The gratitude was accompanied by a kiss on the cheek that sent Yuuri's face bubbling like lava. "I'm so glad it was you that saved me. No one else would ever have been so kind and sacrificing."

An hour later, after texting Phichit to see when they could video chat and after they'd made a plan of what and how to tell him, Yuuri was pressing the camera option on his laptop as he and Viktor sat on the floor in his room. Phichit picked up almost immediately. It was mid-afternoon in Detroit, and Phichit was at the ice rink between his on ice and off ice routines. Viktor was off screen, smiling encouragingly.

"_Yuuri_!" Phichit exclaimed and began speaking in Japanese, "_You look so good! How are things in Switzerland? How's Chris? How's your friend?" _

_"Everything's good, Phich."_ Yuuri smiled nervously, "_Ano… I wanted to talk to you privately. C-can you borrow Ciao Ciao's office?"_

Phichit hummed and looked around him, "_Hai~! Ciao Ciao is working with the juniors. Let me get there. But tell me everything! Do you have any plans for New Years tonight?"_

_"Un, we'll be having soba and watching fireworks. What about you?" _

_"Ugh, Celestino banned drinking more than two drinks tonight… which I told him was unfair, as you know he'll turn up on Monday still hungover… but oh well! I'll be getting together with my social media study group and doing a bar crawl. I'm the designated driver, but it should still be fun!" _Yuuri couldn't help but grin at his friend, memories of other nights when he'd been the designated driver instead of Phichit and how chaotically fun those nights had been. Behind Phichit, he could see the door to Celestino's office close and the world around him spun as he flopped onto the couch. "_What's up?"_

_"_I need to switch to English." Yuuri said, his stomach flipping over as he glanced over at Viktor, who just nodded encouragingly, "You know how I said I'd tell you when I could?"

"Yeah?" Phichit's gaze went serious as he sat up a little, "Are you telling me now?"

"_Un…_ I um… I have my friend here, the one I came to see…" and before Yuuri could build up to it any more, Viktor was sliding next to him with a big grin and a wave. Yuuri startled at how Viktor was going off script, but it was too late to push him out of the frame.

"Hello! Nice to meet you, Phichit! My name is Viktor!"

Phichit's eyes went wide as he scrunched his face closer to the camera, like he was trying to make sure what he was seeing was correct. When Viktor laughed and Yuuri flushed, the Thai man gasped.

"Oh…"

"Phich…'

"My…"

"I can explain…"

"GOD!" Phichit spluttered and was, for once, at a loss for coherent words, "What? How the… Oh my god… _Yuuri!_ I mean… Yes. Nice to meet you too, Viktor… like… Holy shit, it all makes sense now…"

"_Phich_!" Yuuri shrieked, burying his face in his hands and Viktor was only laughing.

"Wow! Just… wow. I'm sorry." Phichit fanned his face and took a deep breath to calm down. "Let me try this again… Hi, Viktor! I'm Yuuri's BFF, Phichit, and while Yuuri makes himself realize the world hasn't ended, I'd love to talk to you."

Yuuri still couldn't speak as Viktor poked at his side from below the camera view and he buried his head further into his arms, which only made both of his friends laugh at his expense.

"I think I owe you an apology, Phichit." Viktor began. Yuuri took a deep breath to pull himself together and peeked up. Viktor was still smiling, but he certainly looked contrite, "Yuuri said you've been very worried, but he didn't say anything out of respect of my privacy."

"It's… I knew he was really worried about someone, and I guess that was you." Phichit was friendly as he spoke, "I just worry about him, too. But uh… I'm guessing there was a really good reason for all the secrecy?"

"There was." Viktor agreed, and Yuuri sat up straighter as he watched their conversation, no longer beet red. "I'm afraid it isn't a very happy story, but Yuuri has helped me… so much. More than I can really tell you."

"Yuuri's a really good person." Phichit hummed with a fond smile, his gaze going to Yuuri's face on the screen. "He'll give anyone the shirt on his back if they need it."

"He did a lot more than that." Viktor agreed, "I'm afraid I was in quite a bit of trouble, and I reached out to Yuuri at Rostelecom once I found out he had Chris as his choreographer…"

Yuuri watched Phichit's face go from burning curiosity, to horror, to awe, to understanding as Viktor explained how they met and what Yuuri had been actually doing in Moscow instead of attending a sponsorship meeting like he'd pretended. How Yakov, Chris, Celestino and Yuri Plisetsky had all helped, and how important it was to keep it under wraps until it was safe. Phichit listened patiently, breathing in sharply as he started to put together all of the implications as the gaps of his own knowledge were filled. As Viktor finished the whole tale, Yuuri was fidgeting under Phichit's scrutinous gaze even if he was half the world away.

"Yuuri!" Phichit gasped as Viktor stopped talking, "Oh my god, _Yuuri!_ I am so… I just! I'm so happy you're safe. And you too, Viktor… I can't even imagine what it's been like. I'm - I'm… a bit lost for words to be honest…"

Yuuri noted that Viktor's smile was patient, if strained, but he didn't seem upset, at least, his scent didn't betray that he was. How he'd been able to tell the bare facts of what had happened without getting emotional was beyond Yuuri. He'd teared up at a few points as Viktor explained everything, but he turned back to Phichit.

"I'm sorry that I worried you, Phich. I know it was hard…" he said softly and then jumped when Phichit scoffed.

"Yuuri, you!" Phichit groaned and then chuckled exasperatedly, "Viktor, do me a favor and watch after him, will you? He puts everyone else first far too much to be good for him. And Yuuri, you don't have to apologize for anything, for hell's sake…"

Viktor actually giggled at Phichit's outburst and squeezed Yuuri's hand. "I'll look after him. I owe him everything, after all."

Yuuri buried his face in his free hand again to hide his pinking cheeks. Really, between Phichit, Chris, and Viktor, his skin tone was liable to change to permanently red.

"I'll leave you both to talk some more." Viktor told them kindly, "It was nice to finally meet you, Phichit. I can tell you're a great friend to Yuuri."

"I wish it was under better circumstances, but it was nice to meet you too!" Phichit called through the video. Viktor gave one final smile as a farewell and left Yuuri alone with his laptop. Once the door clicked shut, Phichit immediately started in, "So _that's_ why you didn't want to take your posters? Why you took them down?"

"_Shh! Phich! He still could hear you!_" Yuuri shushed him immediately falling back into Japanese, frowning. He reached into his laptop bag and pulled out his headset and Phichit waited for him to plug it in, eyebrow raised.

"I'm going to kill Ciao Ciao, just so you know." Phichit continued, once Yuuri was settled. "And Chris. And possibly Yakov if his grumpy face doesn't scare me away first - actually, you know what? Fuck his grumpy face. And his hat. Yuuri, you could have been killed! Or _worse_!"

"Phich…" Yuuri warned with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. "Nothing happened except… just some bruises. That's all."

"And anxiety from hell, and not being able to talk about it!" his friend insisted. "Yuuri, I'm being dead serious. You need to call your therapist and actually talk about what happened. I'm saying this in the most loving way possible, but you can't have gone through all that without some major trauma. And please, _please, _don't say it was nothing. You were right when you said this was big. It's huge."

"It's…" Yuuri struggled to find his words and ended up sighing. "I'm not saying you're wrong… It was just… I couldn't not help, and the police… we _tried_, Phich. Ciao Ciao and I went to them first thing, and they wouldn't even interview the people that were in that bastard's suite at the competition. It pretty well left us on our own and… I have a suspicion that they're only doing something now because we took it to Interpol and turned it over to the federal police in Russia…"

"I'm not saying it wasn't the right thing to do, but… Yuuri, I could have lost you! I'm so… relieved nothing worse happened, but god damnit…" Yuuri watched as Phichit's eyes flooded with tears, visible even over the pixilated image, "… I'm sorry. I'm trying to process this and I'm not handling it very well… I just… I love you, you know that right?"

"I love you too, Phich." Yuuri smiled, sniffing and surprised to find his own eyes were watery. "Please don't worry too much. I'm okay for the most part."

"It's the other small part that I'm worried about." Phichit snuffled and wiped his face, "Please, Yuuri? Make sure you have a Skype session with your therapist or something? You've worked so hard to get your anxiety and depression under control, and I don't want to see all your hard work come apart, okay? And if you need me at any time, you'd better freaking call me, otherwise Ciao Ciao and I will be locating to Geneva too. I dare you to try me on that."

Yuuri laughed and nodded, running his sleeve across his face to dry his own tears, "I promise. I'll call if I need to talk about anything. And I'll email Maria, see if she has a time that'll work, okay?"

"Okay, good." Phichit smiled in relief, "I don't want to be an ass about it, but send me a screen shot of your message to her?"

"I will." Yuuri agreed, knowing without that incentive that he likely wouldn't email his therapist at all. It was how Phichit had been able to get him into therapy in the first place, so many years ago, when they were barely a year into their friendship. Yuuri had been stubborn about handling everything on his own and his friend had squashed that idea. The arguments that ensued had nearly ended their friendship until Phichit had broken down crying over it. Yuuri had made the appointment the next morning with Phichit standing next to him and had his help in making sure he kept it.

"I'll watch for it…. But now," Phichit straightened up as though he had been waiting to get down to business. "Tell me, Katsuki-san, what is it like, living with your lifelong celebrity crush?"

"Phich!"

* * *

As Yuuri finished his phone call with Phichit, Viktor was finishing his with Yakov. He apologized for how he'd left the conversation that morning, and told him of his decision. The reaction was… mixed. Yakov was glad he was moving forward with learning how to coach Yuuri, but as to the rest, he had suggested talking to a lawyer before Viktor could even tell him that was his plan. The worry in Yakov's voice was apparent, if only to him, but Viktor reassured him it was what he wanted, what he had to do for Tanya.

Yakov grunted in agreement, and said he'd forwarded the information Viktor had sent him to the two best P.I.'s he knew. Viktor was teary as he thanked him, to which Yakov, of course, grunted again and then promptly told him about how Yuuri had demanded he be nice to Viktor, which sent him into a fit of giggles. 

"He seems like a good friend to you, Vitya." Yakov said as Viktor smiled and blushed, even though Yakov couldn't see him. "You need good friends, now."

"Is it weird how fast I have come to trust him?" Viktor wondered aloud, and Yakov laughed. Or rather, he grunted a couple times in quick succession.

"No. Think of how you met and what he's done. Though, I would understand if you didn't trust him, if you didn't trust anyone. But that is no way to live, Vitya."

Viktor knew that his coach was right, but he also knew that it was more stemming from how he wasn't entirely sure he trusted his own judgement any longer. It helped that the man that had taken care of him for over half his life was singing Yuuri's praises, figuratively, of course. Yakov had to end the call, saying he was far later than was socially appropriate to his own party with the rest of the rink. Viktor said goodbye, sadly, wishing he was there as well. 

He hung up and stared into space for a moment, deciding he would call Lilia another time, when the door to Yuuri's room opened and the beta came out to plop on the couch next to him.

"How did it go?" Viktor asked with an amused tone. His part of the conversation with Phichit had been short, but the Thai man had left a good impression. It had been doubly worth it to see all the new expressions that only a best friend could extract on Yuuri's face. He could almost imagine Yuuri playing an exasperated responsible older brother when Phichit took him to the parties Yuuri described. Or perhaps Phichit brought out the more playful side of Yuuri. He would have to find a way to ask. 

"It was good. Less teasing than I expected." Yuuri smiled at him, "And your call?"

"Yakov's glad I’m going through with the press conference." Viktor's smile was weak in return, but still genuine. He almost added 'And he thinks you're amazing,' but felt that Yuuri's face would never return to its normal color if he did. So he spared him that fate.

"That's good!" He said encouragingly and then took a deep breath. "Is it alright if I call my parents, and then we can start the movie?"

"_Da_."

Yuuri ended up calling his sister, who was far different than Viktor had expected. Where Yuuri fidgeted nervously, his sister was looking at the camera with a cigarette hanging from her mouth and it appeared as though she was leaning up some sort of wooden post in a garden where it was daylight. Yuuri's voice lilted in Japanese, and hers was fairly monotone, and yet they both seemed very happy to see one another. 

He watched as Yuuri's sister moved through what Viktor could only assume was their inn, which was bustling and busy, and Yuuri smiled nervously at him as they waited. Viktor returned an encouraging one and then their attention was brought back to the screen with an enthusiastic, motherly "Yuuri!" coming from the speakers.

Yuuri beamed at his parents, both of them crowding way too close to the camera so that their faces were both only half way visible. Viktor held back a chuckle as Yuuri instructed them on how to view the camera properly, and from his patient tone, it was something he had to do every time he called. 

It turned out that the video call with Yuuri's family was far less stressful than the one with Phichit. Yuuri did all of the talking, and all Viktor was required to do was smile and wave when he directed the camera over to him. It was a quick look directly at the three faces that were staring, quite shocked, and then an explosion of Japanese questions that turned Yuuri into a stuttering mess. Viktor heard his name several more times, from all four of them, and once the conversation lulled, all of the Katsuki's were smiling, (his sister more offering a lopsided smirk). 

It did surprise him, however, when Yuuri's mother, who looked an awful lot like her son, demanded to speak to him.

"_Vicchan!"_ She said, and he had no idea what that word meant and she continued in English. "_I am so happy to hear you and Yuuri safe and sound in _Suisu_. Yuuri is in your care!"_

"What does 'Vicchan' mean?" Viktor immediately asked Yuuri after he hung up. He had thanked the adorable family, grumpy sister and all, and wished them a happy holiday and Yuuri had quickly said his goodbyes after. He hadn't actually meant to make Yuuri blush with that question, but he began stammering and turning read all the same.

"It's… a nickname for y-you." Yuuri explained quickly and then jumped up, like he didn't want to go further into it. "Do you want to watch the movie now? I'll go get the salads."

"O-okay!" Viktor was barely able to get out before Yuuri was hurrying into the kitchen, and he wondered why it was so embarrassing there was already a nickname for him. It was very sweet that Yuuri's mother had so swiftly welcomed him as Yuuri's new friend. Another thing he would have to ask about later. 

He fiddled with the television and the cords to Yuuri's laptop to hook it all up, thankful that his dedication to watching streams of skating competitions that weren't always readily available translated into a new skill for their night's entertainment. Yuuri returned with their food, the two salads, hot bowls of soba, as well as sliced apples and pears, and they settled in on opposite ends of the couch to watch. 

Viktor was more focused on Yuuri's reaction than the film itself, having seen it dozens of times already. They had to pause it every once in a while when Yuuri had missed an English subtitle for Viktor to give him the line in English, and was delighted as Yuuri giggled his way through the absurd plot. It wasn't until there was a loud _bang_, followed by splashes of color lighting the room that they even realized they had missed the countdown to midnight. Their phone calls had taken longer than they thought.

Pausing the movie, Viktor grabbed the few boxes of poppers and horns and grinned at Yuuri.

"Let's go watch!"

Yuuri laughed as Viktor ran out onto the balcony in only his slippers to stare at the fireworks that were lighting up the sky in all directions. It seemed there were several celebrations scattered around the city, each with their own display and appearing to be trying to outdo one another. The door slid shut behind him and he turned when Yuuri tapped him on the shoulder, holding up Viktor's coat, his own already snugly zippered.

Viktor thanked him and pulled his coat on, handing Yuuri the box of poppers. They opened them up and with squinting eyes in preparation, tugged the strings together to add to the already deafening booms that Viktor could feel in his stomach. It seemed neighbors were doing similar things, nearly every balcony holding celebrating families and friends, some shouting greetings to the entire neighborhood, some in German and some in French. 

Across the street and a floor down was a party that seemed to be more rowdier than the rest, their doors open and far too many people crowded along the bannister to watch the spectacle, and on the sidewalks was a parade of pedestrians, singing and clapping.

"I can't believe we almost missed it!" Viktor laughed as he set off another popper, watching the confetti and tissue paper streamers dance around them.

"Well, it's a good movie." Yuuri shrugged and placed a horn between his lips. Viktor was about to say he was glad Yuuri was enjoying it when Yuuri blew on the horn far too hard and the noise puttered out into a squeak. Viktor immediately blew his own in the same way, which made them both dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

They were still giggling as Yuuri turned to the small glass table that might normally be used for a glass of wine by Chris and Levin on summer evenings. On it were two champagne glasses and the bottle of cider. Viktor hadn't even noticed him bringing them out. Yuuri poured the sparkling cider and handed a glass to Viktor, taking the other and lifting it up to toast.

"_Akemashite ometedō._" he said shyly. "Happy New Year, Viktor."

"Vitya." Viktor corrected. "We're friends, and my friends get to call me Vitya. If you want."

That he had known would send Yuuri blushing, and he was right. 

"Then, Happy New Year, Vitya." Yuuri amended and they clinked their glasses.

_"Schastlivogo novogo goda, _Yuuri." Viktor grinned as they both took a drink, the bubbles tickling his lips and nose. 

Sipping their drinks and watching the fireworks paint the buildings in light, they stood close enough to keep warm. Slowly, each display gave their grand finale, Viktor's ears humming in protest from the echoes of the brick buildings trapping sound between them. As the last burst of light faded from the pitch of the night sky, the lively music from the party across the way was the last thing that could be heard.

He wasn't sure what impulse was guiding him. Perhaps it was the contagious celebratory atmosphere, or maybe it was simply wanting to prolong the moment where everything terrible was on the fringe of his thoughts, threatening to spill over the dam the festivities had built to keep them at bay. Viktor downed the rest of the glass he'd been nursing through the firework show and scraped the patio furniture across the stone floor and to the side. Reaching for Yuuri's hand, he fought down the pink that threatened to form on his cheeks as Yuuri watched him curiously.

"Dance with me?"

"U-um… Okay."

The music spilling out of the open doors was all big brass and swinging beats, reminiscent of decades gone past. It took Viktor a bit to get his footing, and neither of them knew who was going to be leading until he gave up and let his partner begin to guide the steps. Cerulean eyes went wide and his mouth stretched in delight as Yuuri spun him under his arm, then out and in, catching him easily as he turned. It had been so long, far too long, since having any sort of a dance partner that was able to do _that. _

It seemed that Viktor's grin and giggling was infectious, as soon Yuuri was laughing too as they experimented in the limited space. The song faded from old swinging jazz to more modern techno with lyrics, though they were too far away to really understand the words. With the change of music came a change of dance style and this time, Yuuri gave the lead over to Viktor, who had become more confident in his movements. It was like the proverbial riding a bicycle, and he was suddenly able to move like he hadn't in years.

Just when Viktor thought his lungs were going to burst from not being used to such exercise, the music slowed and so did their steps until they were facing each other, sweat on their brows cooling rapidly in the winter air. He didn't want to stop dancing, but it was decidedly a couple song, and Viktor had no idea how his dance partner would feel about it. His answer came with the corners of Yuuri's lips warmly quirking and his hand extended in offer. 

Stepping close together, they settled into a steady rhythm of a four step. Yuuri once again took the lead and held his hands at a respectable height, their bodies close but not entirely touching. Gently, with a hand at the small of his back, Yuuri guided him through a couple spins and a tentative dip, which left Viktor laughing. 

"When do I get to see your scandalous dancing?" he asked with a teasing grin. Yuuri scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

"Are there any other traditions you do in Japan?" Viktor muttered sleepily from the floor, and Yuuri smiled at how his eyes were still closed, hair mussed from their nap. After balcony doors from across the street shut the music in, they had gone back inside to finish the movie, which Yuuri thought was dated, but he still really liked it, and had decided on an impromptu sleep over. Piling blankets and pillows, Viktor had insisted on Yuuri taking the couch so he wouldn't hurt his back sleeping on the hard floor. It had nearly turned into an argument similar to the one at the supermarket, but Yuuri really couldn't deny that sleeping on the floor without a futon to cushion him could very well set him back in practice. They'd set off a the rest of the poppers, shared the rest of the sparkling cider, devoured the chocolate bars, and fell asleep talking about nothing in particular until mutual stirring showed they were both awake far too early. Shrugging, even though Viktor couldn't see it, he yawned before answering his question.

"Just… watching the first sunrise of the year…" Yuuri's voice was soft, tired, but Viktor still opened one eye in interest. "In Detroit, Phich and I would take a run to one of the hills near campus and watch it, or in Hasetsu, Mari and I would go to Hasetsu Castle and watch it from there… but I don't know of any high points here in Geneva- What are you doing? It's too bright…"

Yuuri buried his face in his pillow with a groan.

"I'm looking up when the sunrise is." Viktor told him, blinking away the bright light of his phone as he tapped away on it. "Mm, it's in an hour… which means it's just enough time to see it!"

Viktor was up and shaking off his blankets almost as soon as he finished speaking, a spring in his step that Yuuri would never be able to emulate. He was never good with mornings, but Viktor so far had been awake early every day, even during his heat. Tugging at Yuuri's arm, Viktor pulled him to his feet as he groaned in protest at leaving his comfortable spot on the couch.

"Let's go!" Viktor encouraged, "Go get your coat!"

"Where are we going?" Yuuri grumbled as he followed Viktor to the entry way where their coats and shoes were lying in wait for the next time they'd go out of the apartment.

"There has to be a rooftop access to this complex. Hurry!" Viktor was already pulling on his shoes and lacing them up with dexterity, whereas Yuuri's tired fingers fumbled with his own laces. The older man was impatient, already waiting with his coat zipped up as Yuuri reached for his own and the door was flung open and Yuuri shoved out the door before he could put his arms through the sleeves.

Viktor guided them to the antique elevator, the kind that had bars they had to manually slide open to access the car and pushed the button to the top floor. Chris and Levin lived on the third of seven floors in the building, and Yuuri was grateful they weren't going to be climbing four flights of stairs in their tired state. Well, he was still half asleep, but it seemed Viktor was already wide awake, an excited energy buzzing around him as they waited for the elevator to deposit them on the requested floor.

"How do you have so much energy?" Yuuri mumbled, rubbing the sleep sand out of the corners of his eyes and Viktor giggled.

"Not a morning person, Yuuri?"

"I am during the skating season… but not on my days off…"

Viktor laughed again and pushed the elevator doors open so that they could stumble out before he closed the ornate gate closed again. Slotting their hands together, Viktor pulled him along as he began their search for a door that would lead them to the roof. Yuuri was beginning to get hot and it had nothing to do with how his now zipped up coat was far too warm for the excellent old fashioned radiators that heated the entire building. Tentatively, he squeezed Viktor's hand, who immediately squeezed back in reassurance. 

It was odd, Yuuri had never held hands regularly with anyone, not even the people he'd previously dated. In high school, the one boy who had been his boyfriend didn't go in for much PDA and he was the one who was too shy to reach out to the girl at university. But here he was, constantly holding hands with Viktor Nikiforov, but it had never been that their fingers were completely laced together like one would see with couples. It was always how he'd held Viktor's hand in Moscow, like they were simply partners in whatever they were doing at the time, whether it be escaping the underground, facing biological obstacles, or now, simply trying to celebrate as many traditions as they could as misplaced men in a foreign country.

"This looks promising!" Viktor whispered conspiratorially as they reached a plain door that obviously didn't lead into an apartment. It looked more like a service door and had something in French that Yuuri didn't understand engraved on a plaque next to it. With his free hand, Viktor tried the knob and it opened to reveal stairs leading up and he grinned at Yuuri, who couldn't help but smile back.

Viktor laughed again and tugged him up the stairs, both of them clamoring loudly on the metal, industrial steps and out the door at the top. There was a brick right next to it that seemed to serve the purpose of propping the door open so that whomever went to the roof could get back in and Viktor nudged it into place before taking a look around the new space. Steam rose from spouts and fencing enclosed electrical boxes and air conditioning units that serviced the whole building, and decorative domes were on either side of the rooftop, but they were able to find a spot that offered an unobstructed view to the streets below. There were taller buildings in the distance, but they both could see the lake and the eastern mountains. The sky was already fading into a chilled yellow that lined the icy clouds.

The roof was framed in a half wall that went up to their chests so that they could lean against it, side by side and watch the colors begin to change. Viktor linked their arms together and snuggled up against him for warmth and Yuuri again blushed at the contact, but covered it up by blowing hot air into his free hand.

"We should have grabbed our gloves." Viktor chuckled and put his own hands in his pockets. "Some skater you are, forgetting the most important gear for the cold!"

Yuuri couldn't help but smile and shake his head. "You rushed me out the door! I didn't have time to think about it."

Viktor bumped his hip into Yuuri's teasingly and they both chuckled and turned their attention back to the view. The entire city seemed sleepy after the loudness of the celebrations that had lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Below them they could see a few stragglers wobbling their way home from a night of drinking and parties. They watched in comfortable silence, mutually wincing and laughing at a man who suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach into a street trash can before stumbling down the block, singing loudly enough that they could still hear, despite being so far above him.

"So tell me about this tradition. Is it just watching the sunrise or is there more to it?" Viktor asked as the sky got brighter.

Yuuri smiled fondly at memories of legends and stories told about the first sunrise of the year and nodded. "There's more to it. It's called _hatsuhinode_, 'the first sunrise.' In the past, people would pray to Toshigami-sama, the god of harvest. He's said to come with the new year's sunrise and people would wish for a good harvest or good fortune. But now, mostly people will just make new years resolutions or other wishes for what they want to happen… and they'll go to shrines to do the same thing later."

Viktor listened attentively, his gaze still fixed in the distance. "Is it bad luck to tell others what you'll wish for?"

"It depends on who you ask."

Grinning, Viktor glanced down at him with his eyebrows raised. "I'm asking you. Do you know what you'll wish for?"

Yuuri thought about it for a moment, chewing his bottom lip. There was so much he could wish for, so many people he wanted to see happy and healthy in the coming months. For his parents, he wanted a good flow of customers for the onsen, for Mari to be able to get that motorbike she had been saving up for, for Yuuko and Takeshi and the triplets to all be healthy and for Ice Castle to stay in business, for Minako he wished the same for her studio, for Phichit he wanted a medal in every competition and happiness with Seung Gil, for Celestino to stop beating himself up about Moscow, for Chris and Levin, he knew they had been trying for a baby, and he wasn't sure if that was put on hold now that Viktor was there, but he wanted them to get whatever it was they wanted. And for Viktor… For Viktor he wanted peace and healing. He wanted Ivan in prison, he wanted all the other omegas, betas and alphas still stuck in his sick ring to be free, he wanted Viktor to find Tatiana and those who took her to be put away for good, he wanted that little girl to be okay and safe with her real father.

"I guess I… I want to make e-everyone proud and do my best in Pyeongchang in a couple months." Yuuri said quietly, not knowing how to put everything he wanted into words. He shivered from his lie but Viktor only nodded in understanding.

"That's a good one! For me… I want to find my daughter. Soon. And I really want her to be healthy and happy… and I want a new start for both of us, too. Is that too much? Is it too greedy?"

Thinking of his own lengthy list, Yuuri smiled and shook his head. "It's not too much. I want that for you too."

They stood close, shivering and talking about how much they wished they had brought some tea or coffee with them, but neither wanting to run back down the stairs to get some. The sky continued to lighten, fading from light gray, to purple, and then, finally, gold and silver that can only be seen in winter sunrises began to kiss the European rooftops. 

Yuuri put his hands together and closed his eyes as the first crescent of the sun peeked over the mountain range. He could feel Viktor imitating him with their arms still linked, and he thought of all he wished for, and, just for good luck, he thanked whatever _kami_ were listening for granting his lifelong wish of being Viktor Nikiforov's friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1 - _Mes amis_ \- My friends  
2 - _Onegai_ \- Please  
3 - _Mon Dieu_ \- My God  
4 - _Suisu_ \- Japanese for Switzerland  
5 - _Akemashite ometedō_ \- Happy New Year  
6 - _Schastlivogo novogo goda_ \- Direct translation is, of course, Happy New Year, but it's more used for toasting "I wish you a Happy New Year" from my research  
7 - _Kami_ \- Japanese gods, demi-gods, good spirits, etc.
> 
> ### For Fun:
> 
> Want to see the type of dancing they started with? It's the [Lindy Hop!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VmvKrPUo97E%5D)
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> Welcome to the (first, and, probably, not last) self indulgence chapter!!! (Aka; in which everyone is far too violent with the doors.) This is 13k+ of mostly fluff and stuff to a) hopefully make up for all the angst, and b) to give you a lengthy read after such a long absence. In truth, I probably SHOULD have divided this up into 2 chapters… but I really didn't want to spend 3 chapters on just New Years, even though a lot happened in my mind. I hope it isn't too tedious with the play by play, (in fact, this is the condensed version… ^^;). 
> 
> I think I have just one more chapter of the upcoming week for them, and then we'll be able to start moving along the calendar a bit faster… but tbh, it depends on which POV's decide to make themselves known in the next section which is the long awaited press conference. That day might take up 2 chapters though, because some characters are needling in the back of my mind like they have something to say!
> 
> Also - the winner of the reader poll is… *drumroll* The Regency Fic! I'm really not surprised at this, but don't count on it to be started in time for Regency Week. I have learned a lot from the pitfalls of this one, so it'll take me a bit to plot it out more, but it promises to be a long one. Who knows, though? With this virus debacle, there might be more time for me to concentrate on it. 
> 
> On that note: I hope every one of you are safe and sound and that the impact of this awful circumstance is minimal to you and your loved ones. If you are one of the people that has been greatly impacted, I sincerely hope that it passes soon and things will start turning around for the better as soon as possible. 
> 
> Also, thank you so, so, so much for all your support and kindness for my last A/N. Y'all made me feel all warm and fuzzy , and just further cemented my stout belief that YoI is *the best fandom EVER*! 
> 
> Hugs and kisses to you all! <3


	14. Not Too Far to Carry This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One month till February_   
_Keep on holdin' on_   
_And I know it's short_   
_And I know it's short_   
_And it's times like these_   
_And it's days like these_   
_And it's times like these_   
_And it's days like_   
_It's been a long time comin'_   
_But I'm falling short_   
_It's been a long time comin'_   
_But I'm falling short_   
_Cause you could say_   
_This is not too far to carry this_   
_Because you took something away from yourself_   
_Come back to this route and take your heart to higher self_   
_Heart to higher shelf_   
_(Not too far to carry this)_
> 
> _~Falling Short, Låpsley_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
Descriptions of a panic attack. I do not have it marked because it's a 3 line paragraph. If you need to skip it, skip the paragraph following Viktor's musing about the New Year's sunrise.
> 
> (If you've made it this far in the story, I think you know that this story is one you can read without detriment, I hope. Throughout the story there will be discussions of Viktor's situation and what happened to him, I will not be marking those because they are integral to the story, but if there's ever again flashbacks or more detailed descriptions of those awful events, or something new that you haven't seen in the story before, I will mark those accordingly.)

There was once a certain nest that appeared almost overnight in the gardens of Yutopia. Yuuri had inadvertently found it as a boy, playing 'samurai' on his own and then being drawn by an unfamiliar hum toward the dense trees and bamboo in the corner of the yard. It didn't take him long to realize with a terrified squeak what creature was nesting in the tree, and his father had called one of their neighbors to come help remove it. 

Funny, how the buzzing of reporters in the next room reminded him of the giant hornets that had threatened the safety of his home. 

Palms sweating, he tried to inconspicuously wipe them dry on his pants. He was standing in the makeshift green room of the hotel. In reality, it was a large conference room that could be divided into smaller rooms by collapsible walls. Nothing but thick fabric and light metal frames separated the press from the rest of them. They were harmless, usually. At least, Yuuri had not really had too much trouble with the press. Except for that one time, when he'd flubbed up everything at the GPF five years ago. The way the press had gone from simply flitting from skater to skater was indeed very much like a hornet doing its job of taking pieces back to their hives. At least, until they had caught sight of his performance and then descended on him like he'd nearly stepped on their queen.

It wasn't that he was nervous for himself, though. Not this time. His part was very simple, straightforward. He'd go out, introduce Chris as his new assistant coach, and then announce Viktor Nikiforov's return to the public. This time wasn't about him.

If only he could get the lump in his throat to swallow down.

He glanced over to Viktor. The omega had his eyes cast to the floor as he listened intently to his lawyer going over a few things. It was surprising that she had still been in town when Viktor called her on New Year's Day, and she'd been able to reschedule her return flight to Russia to help construct what Viktor would legally be able to say. This first part of the day was just announcing the coaching. It was what came after that would be harrowing for all of them. Viktor seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. The 'things' being the whirlwind that had been the last two days. They'd all scrambled to get everything set for that day, Chris and Levin on the phone rearranging Russian press being invited, consulting with Yakov on which reporter to use for the exclusive (Viktor's lawyer, it turned out, had recommended two exclusives. One for Russia and one of Viktor's choice in case anything went… wrong with the Russian interview. Yuuri didn't know what could go wrong, but Viktor had agreed,) and then arranging an even bigger conference room for them to use at the hotel they were currently occupying.

Yuuri's job had mostly been to make sure Celestino was in the loop. After that, he'd been helping where he could, which meant he was suddenly helping Viktor fill out paperwork for his work visa, being a fashion consultant (that had necessitated another phone call to Phichit, who was so much better at that sort of thing,) since Viktor didn't have any suits, and then making a rushed shopping trip to a shoe store since Viktor didn't have anything but the boots he'd worn from Moscow. Now, the visa was filed for, and Viktor looked much better than any of them wearing suits in a maroon turtleneck and cream pullover sweater and black slacks. Phichit had said 'red' would typically mean something aggressive to viewers, but in Viktor's case, perhaps it was best to show some solidarity to Russia, and thus the colors were a nod to his Olympic skate jacket he'd proudly worn in previous competitions. 

Scanning the room, he noted that Chris and Levin hadn't come back in from greeting the press, thanking them for coming and ensuring the refreshments for after would be enough for the unexpected jump in numbers. Apparently, they'd had to slide in a few hints that there was a famous Russian skater that would be there giving an interview, and speculation was that it had something to do with Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri hadn't had too much interaction with the teen who shared his name, but he knew the boy would definitely be furious at the implication of being associated with him yet again. 

Viktor's lawyer excused herself from his side to go in and join the throng of reporters, and the placid expression on his face immediately fell away. It didn't take long for the scent of anxiety to reach Yuuri's nose, and he started over toward him.

"You're nervous." he stated quietly as he came to stand in front of him, and Viktor gave him a wry, strained smile.

"You are too."

"I'm always nervous." Yuuri grinned up at him. Nervous was a normal state of being and he would have been more anxious about not being nervous, should that have been the case. Viktor chuckled, pulling his hand out of his pocket and twisting his pink handkerchief in between his long fingers. Reaching out, Yuuri covered his hands with his own and squeezed reassuringly.

"It'll be alright." he told him, trying to convince himself as well. "You're doing this for Tanya. And… you d-don't have to tell them more than what is in your statements."

Viktor nodded, looking down at their hands and turning his palm up to grasp Yuuri's tightly. "It's a good statement, right?"

"A _very_ good statement." Yuuri agreed with another squeeze of his hand. They both took a deep breath and Viktor laughed softly.

"I used to be so good at this." He whispered forlornly, "I'm being stupid."

"Talking about your routines and competitions and then this are completely different." Yuuri kept his voice low. "But, maybe you'll remember how as soon as you start talking?"

"Hope so." Viktor gave a false upward twitch of his lips and took another steadying breath. Yuuri stepped forward and gave him a quick hug, too quick for Viktor to really return it.

"You'll be okay, Vitya." He said as he moved back. Viktor's nose was pink even as he was still looking down, eyes wide in surprise. "Oh… I’m sorry. Should I not have..?"

"No!" Viktor jerked his head up to look at Yuuri's face and smiled genuinely for the first time all morning. "It was good. Thank you."

"Okay." Yuuri returned cautiously, and then the door opened behind them, revealing Chris and Levin striding in wearing matching suits, a pin of the Swiss flag affixed to Chris' lapel. Chris gave a weary smile and Levin looked at them both encouragingly. "I guess it's time."

Viktor's hand shot out and grasped Yuuri's wrist as he began to move toward the other door, the one that would take them to the small stage. "Can I get another one?"

Yuuri flushed, opening his arms and wrapping them around Viktor's slight shoulders. He had filled out a little since being able to eat regular meals, but he was still far too thin. Viktor buried his head against Yuuri's shoulder and squeezed around his middle, sighing deeply like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Yuuri tried to make his scent as reassuring, and he could smell as Viktor's nerves began to dissipate, fading into gentle comfort. It helped him too, his own anxiety leaving his chest enough so he could breathe easier, and he didn't have to work as hard to mask his scent. The hug didn't last long, but it was enough. Viktor stepped back, and nodded determinedly.

"Let's do it." he said, and Yuuri gave one last smile before leaving him standing there with Levin while he did his part of the conference with Chris.

* * *

Viktor stood next to the door, breathing as steadily as he could, Levin hovering behind as they both listened for Viktor's cue. The hugs from Yuuri had helped, but as soon as the beta had disappeared, his heart rate had spiked again. He and his alpha companion heard the scraping of chairs, the tittering of reporters. Chris was moderating the interview. They'd thought it best to have him intervene on Yuuri's and his behalf in case the questions got too off topic for the announcements. He'd be able to steer the conversation better than any other outside moderator, as he knew exactly what limits Viktor would be comfortable with and knew how Yuuri reacted to certain questions. Viktor didn't know the details why Yuuri had a hard time with the press, but he figured it had something to do with the anxiety that seemed to always be creeping into his scent.

Chris began by welcoming the reporters, thanking them for their time and explaining that there would only be thirty minutes for questions after the announcement. Viktor would go out once Yuuri introduced him, not wanting any reporters to start speculating with him already seated at the table. Chris' publicist had said Viktor making an entrance would also add 'drama' to the news story of Viktor joining with Yuuri's team. No one had bothered to tell her about how much drama would be seen after the exclusive interviews. She only knew that Viktor would be explaining where he'd been. Viktor personally thought it was ill-advised to not be more forthright about it, but Chris had thought it the best course of action, and so he'd deferred to his best friend's opinion. 

Viktor's breath caught again as Chris introduced Yuuri, to respectful and short applause. This was it.

_"Hello, and thank you all for coming today. I'm very excited to make the announcement that I have two new additions to my team." _Yuuri was saying into the mics. His voice was distorted slightly, but he sounded sure, and Viktor's chest stopped pounding quite so hard._ "Christophe Giacometti has been kind enough to join me as my new assistant coach in addition to continuing to help me with my choreography. For the foreseeable future, my home rink will be here in Geneva at Miroir de Glace Centre Sportif where Monsieur Giacometti will support me through the Olympic Games in South Korea. We already have worked together at the last Olympics in Sochi, and we're both looking forward to continuing our friendship and professional working relationship. Coach Celestino Cialdini will continue as my head coach remotely from Detroit, and he will be joining us in Taipei for Four Continents." _

Stomach up in his chest, Viktor inhaled sharply as the translator finished up in French with Yuuri's statement, then another in Japanese for the reporters that weren't as fluent in English, and then finally in Russian. Vaguely, he wondered if any of them were questioning the Russian presence. He knew that this part likely wasn't a terribly groundbreaking announcement, judging from how the reporters weren't buzzing like he'd experienced in other press conferences. All he could hear was a hum of interest that quickly faded into silence for those that were recording the spectacle.

It was what was coming after Chris further explained his own thoughts on the announcement that would send them into a tizzy.

_"I'm very much looking forward to working with Monsieur Katsuki more than we already do. We already made one hell of a team in the Sochi Games and we're both hoping that this partnership will strike gold a second time." _

Viktor chuckled in spite of himself, along with the polite reporters, knowing full well Chris had been going for a tag line. He glanced over to Chris' mate, who was rolling his eyes fondly.

"Such dramatics, _non?_" Levin smiled at down at him and Viktor smiled bitterly in spite of himself.

"They haven't seen anything yet…" he murmured with a self-deprecating scoff and Levin clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll all turn out fine, Viktor. Don't worry." Levin offered. Viktor was very grateful toward Chris' mate, he'd worked tirelessly to help ensure this would go off without a hitch, had supported everything that had been going on with an easy grace that Viktor personally envied. His missive of 'don't worry', however, was easier said than done. There wasn't any time to try and take the advice as they both perked up as Yuuri began to speak once again with the translators' job being blessedly short after Chris' two sentences.

"_The second addition to my team will be another choreographer and part time coaching assistant_." His voice wavered slightly, and Viktor sucked in a sharp breath. "_It's no secret that both Christophe and I dedicated our previous Olympic winning season routines to him,_" the reporters started tittering as Yuuri took a breath. The words quickly sank in and they began to put things together before Viktor's name was even spoken, forcing Yuuri to speak louder to be heard, "_And we're very excited to announce Viktor Nikiforov's return to skating in a coaching capacity._"

Yuuri's words were almost lost as reporters started shouting questions immediately, drowning out the translators. Apparently they didn't actually need them, as everyone seemed to know what Yuuri had said in English. The clamor was deafening, chairs scraping as people jumped to their feet. Viktor began to tremble as he made out demands to see him, where he had been, how the arrangement had come to be, on and on until there was a loud tapping against a mic, triggering a loud, screeching feedback ring. There were sounds of chairs creaking against each other again as the crowd began to settle back into their seats.

_"We will be answering a few questions about the new additions to Yuuri's team here shortly, after a statement from Viktor Nikiforov._" Chris' voice rang out with a sharp edge to it, though he wasn't unfriendly, and continued speaking quickly before the crowd could get excited again, "_We ask that the questions stay on the topic of our statements as this is a professional announcement, not a personal one. Now, we will invite Monsieur Nikiforov out to the stage._"

Viktor stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, plastering on the media smile he'd practiced in the mirror the night before as Levin's hand went to the door handle, waiting for him to nod to open it. He felt strained, awkward, like his muscles weren't working properly. There wasn't time to waver, but he didn't miss Levin's sympathetic and encouraging smile.

"Thank you, Levin." he said as the door swung open and he stepped through it. He knew the cameras were on the door, and the thanks he offered Levin was just as sincere as it was for the benefit of the audience. Flashes and shouts of excitement rendered him blind with ears popping as he gave a wave to the crowd. Chris was there immediately, offering his hand to shake and a much needed reorienting presence. Viktor took it and his hand, bringing his best friend into a one armed hug completed with a _la bise_ greeting of three kisses. That action grounded Viktor enough to feel as he had years before this moment. Yuuri had been right in a way, he was suddenly back in part of his element, even if what he was about to announce was far from anything he'd ever before said.

Chris guided him to Yuuri, who stood and they repeated the previous routine, like it was a program on ice. They had practiced this, too, for Yuuri's benefit, since he wasn't entire comfortable with European greetings. Handshake, a quick hug and air kisses to the cheek, and Viktor settled in on the seat next to Yuuri, Chris taking the one opposite of their 'new' skater. Viktor gave the reporters time to quiet down by smiling and taking sip of the water in front of him, his eyes seeing sunspots as the cameras continued to flash.

"Such a warm greeting. Thank you!" he chuckled falsely as he spoke into the microphone on the table. At least his voice was working, and his smile didn't feel as wan as it did thirty seconds prior. With that the reporters began to clap, expressing their support and fanatic enthusiasm over Yuuri's declaration, over his return. "Thank you." he repeated politely a few times as they settled, throwing the cameras a wink. Chris laughed and even Yuuri was smiling, though strained, though all of them could feel each other's tension belying the revelry.

"Wow!" Viktor started again, and this time his attempts to quiet them were more successful. "I wasn't expecting so much anticipation! Again, thank you for the warm welcome. I am thrilled to join Katsuki Yuuri's team along with Assistant Coach Giacometti and Coach Cialdini and announce my coming out of retirement as a choreographer and part time coach. I will be working as a 'coach in training' under Christophe's tutelage, so my impact will be very small for now. I know there are very many questions you all have regarding my extended absence from the public, and in due time I will explain more in depth, but for the moment, we wish to simply celebrate our news with you. We will take a few questions now, but please, one at a time!"

There was a great commotion as every hand shot into the air, each individual loudly proclaiming their eagerness to ask first. Chris took charge, with another reminder to stay on topic, and called on a reporter he knew personally from his own competition days and the crowd died down.

"_Monsieur_ Katsuki," she began, and Viktor breathed a sigh of relief that she was staying following directions at least, even as her eyes flitted to him with burning curiosity, "You must be delighted to have, not one, but two skating powerhouses as new coaches, even if one is describing his impact as 'small'. We know you've worked with _Monsieur _Giacometti before, but how did you meet _Monsieur _Nikiforov? How did this arrangement come to be?"

"At the Rostelecom Cup in November." Yuuri explained with a shy smile, as they had rehearsed. They'd reworked the facts of their story just a bit to help keep all their privacy as best they could and Viktor was comforted by how easily Yuuri gave his answer. "He was there to watch the competition and approached me after my free skate. From there, we stayed in contact, and when I decided to come to Geneva, it turned out he'd already been considering a comeback under Coach Giacometti's care. It was just a set of circumstances that turned out to be right."

"A follow up, please." The reporter continued after the translations, and Chris nodded. "_Monsieur_ Nikiforov, at Rostelecom, _Monsieur_ Katsuki's free skate wasn't up to his usual standard, it being his lowest score in years. What was it that you saw in him that made you think this was the time to come out of retirement and was it that performance that made you reach out to him?"

Viktor's chest tightened as flashes from that night scattered across his mind, but he maintained his smile as the translators spoke quickly. "We all know one rough performance does not mean a skater is out of the season, and he took bronze in Rostelecom even with a rough skate. Since then, he showcased his phenomenal talent and skill by taking silver in the Grand Prix Final and then gold at Japan's Nationals. Any coach would be proud to take _Monsieur_ Katsuki as a student with all his accomplishments, and _Monsieur_ Giacometti and I have always been good friends and we know we work together well. It was the right time and the right skater that made the decision easy." He answered honestly, flashing Yuuri a grin. As expected, Yuuri was blushing, hiding it behind his own glass of water as he took a sip.

The reporter gave her thanks and took her seat amidst the cacophony of hands shooting up once again. Chris pointed to another and the three of them collectively held their breath for the next question. This one was from Russia, and Viktor had the unfortunate experience of knowing what the question was before Chris and Yuuri, and already he was looking at Chris, knowing he wouldn't like it. Fortunately, the questions being asked were only needed to be translated into English, instead of having to wait for three languages. 

"Coach Nikiforov, rumors have persisted for years about your sudden retirement, the most extreme speculating that you were dead. Why haven't you let fans and the community know before now that you are, in fact, alive and well until now?"

Chris shifted forward and Viktor raised his hand impulsively at the last second to prevent him from correcting the rude question. Looking as apologetic as he could, he opened his mouth.

"I am truly, very sorry to the skating community and my fans for their worry and distressing speculation and rumors." he said gently, but then turned his tone to a professional sharpness to hopefully quash any further queries along that same line. "All I will say at this time is that I had personal circumstances that needed to be dealt with before I could return. Thank you."

Chris was already calling for the next question from a Japanese reporter as the previous one indicated a follow up question, and the disgruntled journalist sat down with a very cross frown. Viktor recognized the next as Morooka, the one he'd be giving his second exclusive to, and immediately relaxed. If Yuuri felt comfortable with him, then he could, too.

"Welcome back, Nikiforov-san, I speak for all of us here and I'm sure for all skating fans watching around the world." He began and Viktor smiled encouragingly at him, but to his relief, he turned to Yuuri. "Katsuki-san, with a new choreographer, can we expect some changes to your routines in preparation for Four Continents and the Olympics?"

Yuuri's smile seemed relieved and genuine at the question. Viktor couldn't help wonder if the question would have been more hard hitting, had Morooka not known he'd be able to ask more questions later. "_Hai_, Morooka-san. We're still reworking both routines. The core of my routines will stay much the same, but we're all discussing changes to improve them so that I can represent Japan in the best way I possibly can."

Morooka gave a quick bow and resumed his seat as Chris asked the next reporter to give his question. It was about what kind of personal circumstances could possible keep Viktor quiet for _five years_, and Chris reminded them, again, that the focus was Yuuri, then threatened to end the press conference early if the guidelines weren't followed. The rest were directed toward Yuuri and his upcoming competitions, how he was liking Switzerland, or fishing for him to throw shade at his competitors. Viktor felt the furtive glances and some outright disappointed stares as Yuuri navigated the questions well. Chris chimed in with gentle ribbing to the reporters that were searching for baseless rivalries, which Viktor found odd, as they all seemed to be trying to develop drama between Yuuri and Yuri Plisetsky. He made a mental note to ask about it later, as he had a feeling it went deeper than the two of them simply sharing the same name.

A half hour later, Chris announced that it was time for the press conference to end and requested that any further questions be directed toward his publicist's office and the three of them stood. They posed for a few pictures, arms looped over Yuuri's shoulders, seeing sunspots after all the flashes and they exited the room. Viktor was surprised as the audience applauded him off the stage, a few shouts of 'Welcome back Nikiforov!' accompanying them as the door to the green room shut behind them.

Levin was there, welcoming Chris with a proud hug. Event coordinators and hotel staff were busy in the make-shift green room, all discussing what was to come next for their little event. Viktor let out a long sigh of relief, slumping against a wall with his eyes closed and sweat beading on his brow. Yuuri joined by his side and touched Viktor's arm gently.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Viktor nodded with a tired smile.

"_Da_. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"You did great." Yuuri offered, his cheeks flushed and his eyes diverting back to the floor. Viktor raised a quizzical brow at Yuuri's sudden shyness. He inhaled, trying to gauge the difference in demeanor through their scent bond, but he didn't recognize what he was sensing.

"Yuuri? Are _you_ alright?" he asked quietly, glancing over to Chris and Levin who were engaged in their own conversation and not paying them any mind. He suspected that was Levin's doing, as his eyes moved quickly over them and placed a loving hand against Chris' cheek to keep his attention. Yuuri jumped slightly at the question and nodded far too eagerly to be completely honest.

"_Un. _It was alright. Not as bad as I thought it'd be either." he fidgeted with his hands, still not looking at Viktor. Frowning, Viktor tugged him further away from their friends and back to the corner they'd been standing in earlier before the press conference. Yuuri nearly stumbled after him, ears getting redder by the second.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?" Viktor asked urgently. "Did I say something wrong?"

"N-no!" Yuuri stammered, finally making eye contact and waving his hands in front of him, putting distance between them. "That's not it at all. You w-were perfect."

"I'm sure I wasn't." Viktor stared, and Yuuri flinched under his gaze.

It seemed that perfect was the problem with how Yuuri retreated in on himself and his scent grew even more potent with the unfamiliar aroma. But Yuuri denied it, still shaking his head.

"No, no. It was good." But he still wasn't looking at Viktor. He suppressed the urge to whine softly at Yuuri's obvious lie. He didn't like not knowing what was wrong, especially if he'd done something to cause whatever was bothering his new friend. "It just kind of… h-hit me. It's stupid."

"What did?"

"That… um. That from now on… you'll be named as one of my coaches…. It's… I don't know how to explain."

An awkward silence extended over them. Viktor's hand was still on Yuuri's forearm, but those brown eyes were on the floor. He scrambled for anything, going over what he could have said. But he'd answered everything according to their plan, he couldn't comprehend what was bothering the beta. He'd said it was okay that he'd be named a coach, that he didn't mind his name being associated with Viktor's. Perhaps it was too much, and he didn't fully realize what he'd been signing up for with this ridiculous scheme.

"Viktor?" Yuuri asked. Finally, he was looking up. His nose was flush, but he was clearly worried. Viktor realized that he was giving off an anxious scent, and immediately tried to cover it up.

"Did you… change your mind? Because it's okay if you did."

"It's not that, i-it's… I didn't change my mind!" 

Viktor let out a quick breath and stepped back, letting his hand fall away from Yuuri's arm. "Yuuri, it's okay. I don't blame you… we can try to keep me at a distance, make sure your name is left out as much as possible."

Yuuri's eyes widened, scent souring further. "Viktor, no…" and Viktor involuntarily flinched at the use of his full name. It definitely seemed like Yuuri was trying to distance himself, even if he said otherwise. His own eyes fell to the floor this time, and somehow he'd scuffed his shoe. He'd have to buff it out before the next interview. "I m-mean Vitya, sorry… I'm sorry."

"It's okay…" Viktor's voice was small, though he didn't mean it to be.

"Vitya…" Yuuri said quietly, as though he was reminding himself of the nickname again. "I-I just… I spent a lot of time w-watching you give interviews, and… actually s-seeing it in person sort of… it was sort of surprising? You were really, really good."

Viktor's chest froze mid-inhale. Yuuri was hesitant as he reached out and pat his arm. The silence wasn't awkward anymore, but Viktor still didn't know what to say to that. 'Surprising' wasn't what he'd expected. He still couldn't quite believe that the man standing before him had been so much a dedicated fan that he'd been willing to subject himself to all of what he'd been through. No, Yuuri was clearly more than a fan. He'd heard of 'fans' who had insisted they really 'knew' the object of their affections, claimed respect and quickly devolved into rabid animals when something didn't meet their expectations. He'd witnessed it. Ivan might even be counted among them. But Yuuri… Yuuri was one who really _had_ seen Viktor as a human, even if he was once placed on a pedestal. It begged the question if Yuuri wanted anything from him. He hadn't asked for anything, but in the week or so they'd spent together, there wasn't anything that Yuuri seemed to ask for. Even passing the salt at the dinner table appeared to be something he didn't want to ask. Viktor had seen him wait patiently until it was within arm's reach and then quietly season whatever was on his plate.

"Yuuri?"

"_Hai?_"

"… What do you want me to be to you? A friend? A coach? An idol?" Viktor peeked up, and the question seemed to startle him. Yuuri gaped for a moment, his eyes welling. 

"I… I want you to be yourself, Vitya. Whatever you want to do, whatever it means to you." Yuuri said softly. "I don't want you to push yourself to do anything you don't want to do. I kn-know you don't want to skate… and so if… if your title as a coach is just in name only… if that's how _you_ want it, then that's what I want."

Viktor blinked, and was surprised at the warm wet that landed on his cheeks, and he quickly wiped the tears away. Yuuri's answer was more than he'd hoped for, but still gouged deep. Being himself seemed like a simple, but tall order. He didn't even know who he was anymore. "I don't want to be a burden to you."

"You're not!" Yuuri whispered urgently. "And please, _please_ don't ever think you are. I'm grateful for you just being here, and for you letting me be here."

Viktor had a difficult time believing it, even with how Yuuri's eyes burned with sincerity. He had a feeling that neither of them knew exactly what they were getting into, that there was far much more in store. There were so many things that could happen, and Yuuri had already done so much. Just how much more was Viktor going to take from this generous man?

Perhaps it was too much to wish for a fresh start, a new beginning, when they had stood shoulder to shoulder making wishes on the sunrise.

* * *

His skin was itchy. It was familiar, and completely unwelcome. The way his chest felt tight, his heart pounding a couple beats then skipping over the increased rhythm it had set for itself, palms sweaty, and breath coming in short bursts if he wasn't focusing on keeping his inhales and exhales steady and deep. Though this wasn't for himself. He'd never had anxiety for another person before, but there he was, sitting behind an elaborate camera set up. He was staring at Viktor. 

"Deep breaths, _mon chou._" Chris reminded him. Yuuri took another breath, forcing it through his tight throat. They were sitting together, Chris between him and Levin in cushioned dining chairs in a lavish hotel suite. It was the best room, supposedly, because it looked like it could have been someone's apartment. In the living area, there were two arm chairs facing each other, a small coffee table between them with glasses of water for the reporter and Viktor, though it was just for show. Neither of them could actually reach the refreshment. Yuuri was actually the one holding the water bottle that would be given to Viktor during any breaks he might ask for, and the reporter's assistant was leaning against a wall ready to do the same. 

Someone was putting face powder over Viktor's face, getting him camera ready. For the moment, Viktor seemed at ease, like he'd done this dozens of times before. Yuuri supposed he had. There were commercials of various sports brands that were still available on YouTube featuring the former skating star, not that Yuuri had a playlist of his favorites. Definitely not. 

Three cameras were aimed at the set up. One for a wide angle, Chris had explained when Yuuri had asked, and one trained on each chair. The one across from Viktor was currently empty. People still setting up were crossing Yuuri's field of vision, and every time Viktor was out of his sight for a second, he would shift in his seat. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. When they'd discussed an exclusive, he'd pictured it just like he'd seen famous interviews on television in the States. The interviewer and the interviewee. Not a dozen people hearing the story all at once. Though he realized that passing thought was ridiculous. Of course there would be people for cameras, sound checks, makeup, lighting, assistants, direction, and then Viktor's lawyer and the three of them there for moral support. 

Apparently, it had been impossible to keep Viktor's story completely under wraps. His lawyer had explained that they would have to let the reporter know exactly what they would be walking into, had been required to submit their questions ahead of time for approval since the investigation was still ongoing. Morooka and the Russian reporter already knew Viktor had been kept as an omegan slave, that he was doing this to find his daughter. He'd seen the list of questions, had helped Viktor late into the night practice his answers, and both of them had agreed that Morooka was the more respectful of the two. 

The make up artist set Viktor's face with a fine misty spray and then removed the cloth that was draped over his shoulders to protect his clothes. Instantly, another pair of people were there, connecting a mic and hiding it in his sweater collar. Others buzzed behind him with reflective boards, testing the lights that would make the scene look warm, intimate, like this was a conversation between two individuals that viewers should be honored to also take part in from the comfort of their homes. Briefly, Yuuri imagined people eating popcorn and drinking beer while watching this, and he felt nauseous. 

"Breathe, Yuuri." Chris said softly again. Yuuri nearly whimpered as he forced his lungs to work again. Of all the days to forget his emergency medication, of course it was then. 

Set up with Viktor seemed to be complete, and he was suddenly alone, looking small amidst the rest of the hustle and bustle. He was sitting rigid, hands clutching the armrests of the chair. Curious looks were sent his way, but only a few. Everyone on the crew looked like they were used to this sort of thing. It was just another paycheck for them. A paycheck stemming from the kidnapping of a child, built on the misery of Yuuri's hero.

Viktor looked toward them, and offered a smile. It was false. Yuuri could tell it was false. He didn't need to be able to smell whatever Viktor was feeling to know that. Timidly, he grasped the water bottle in his hands and stood. When no one stopped him, he crossed over the many cables and cords that littered the floor in a death trap for the less careful. 

"W-water?" he asked as he reached Viktor. That smile was a bit more sincere, grateful, as Viktor took the bottle and sipped. 

"Thank you, Yuuri." he said softly. He sniffed and then blue eyes shot to his face. Yuuri could have kicked himself for the anxiety that still rolled through him. Obviously, Viktor could sense it. "Are you okay?"

"… No." Yuuri admitted. It was pointless to lie. Almost as pointless as Viktor asking him. They both knew Yuuri wasn't okay. "B-but it's not about me. Are _you_ okay?"

"No." Viktor whispered, looking down. If Yuuri hadn't been looking at his face, hadn't been able to read the word on Viktor's lips, he wouldn't have known he'd responded. He looked up again, and took a deep breath, "But… For Tanya."

"For Tanya." Yuuri agreed quietly. Hesitantly, he reached down and gave Viktor's hand a squeeze. Viktor switched his water bottle to his other hand and turned the one Yuuri was holding to clutch it. Immediately, Yuuri's heart started to slow. Viktor took another deep breath, and it seemed easier. His scent, at least, seemed calmer. 

Yuuri jumped a little as a sharp Russian voice echoed behind him. It was the interviewer who had entered the room without either of them noticing. 

"Um… _Ganbatte_, Vitya." Yuuri muttered, offering another reassuring squeeze.

"_Spasibo_, Yuuri." Viktor shifted to make himself look more like he was just sitting at home as Yuuri retreated. The interviewer sat in her own chair and immediately began talking to Viktor. 

"How is he?" Chris asked as Yuuri sat down again. Chris must have been nervous, too. His hand was joined with Levin's on the other side. 

"Better than me." Yuuri replied with a breathless scoff. Chris patted his arm, but didn't pull his hand away.

A few minutes later, the set fell silent at the command of the director. Another sharp Russian word and the interview began. 

Yuuri wished he could have subtitles.

* * *

"How do you feel, Nikiforov-san?" Hisashi Morooka asked. Viktor had his head resting against a loosely curled fist, eyes closed. He couldn't believe he had to do this_, again._ But with how the Russian press was, he agreed, it was better to have a second interview that would be more accessible to the rest of the world. Russia wasn't fond of sharing their news outside of their borders. Already, though, Morooka was his preference. The woman who had interviewed him before had been cynical, harsh. He supposed he'd either grown too used to how gentle Yuuri, Chris and Levin had been with him, but he'd felt much like he'd been back in the interrogation room with police officers. 

He took a steadying breath and gave what he thought was an encouraging smile to the Japanese reporter. 

"I'm a little tired, Morooka… san?" Viktor said, unsure if he got it right. The man smile proudly, if it was a bit patronizing.

"_Hai, hai, _Nikiforov-san." Morooka chuckled, and then bowed. "Thank you for allowing me to be the one to help tell share your story with the world."

Yes. Morooka was much, much better.

Yuuri seemed more at ease as well, as he lingered behind Viktor's chair this time, instead of in the shadows behind the cameras. He still had the water Viktor would be needing, but he returned Morooka's bow. Oh. Should Viktor have bowed too?

"Thank you for staying for the interview, Mooroka-san." Yuuri said with his head still down. Morooka was smiling as he straightened.

"_Iie. _It is an honor to be able to help find the little girl." the reporter waved off the thanks politely and took his seat. "I am looking forward to seeing you both at Four Continents. Katsuki-san, you are so lucky to have Nikiforov-san and Giacometti-san as your coaches, too! Do your best!"

"_Hai." _Yuuri smiled, and then turned to Viktor. "Do you need anything before they start?"

Another hug would have been nice, but Viktor only shook his head. "I'll be alright, thank you Yuuri."

Yuuri retreated, mics were turned on, lights flooded the space and the cameras rolled. And so began the second interview. 

Mooroka welcomed viewers into the camera in Japanese and, Viktor supposed, explained that the interview would be given in English, because when he turned back to Viktor, he welcomed and thanked Viktor for being on the show in the language they both could speak.

"Thank you for having me, Morooka-san." Viktor smiled as genuinely as he could. He hoped it translated. There wasn't any way to know what his face was doing, if it showed how tired he was, how drained the whole day had made him. It felt like his muscles were obeying in the way he'd carefully trained them, but he wouldn't know for sure until he saw the footage.

"All of Japan will be so happy to have you on Katsuki Yuuri's skating team. On behalf of our country, welcome to the Japanese figure skating team!"

Viktor couldn't help but laugh, the previous tension melting. They exchanged a few more niceties, talked about how much they enjoyed Yuuri's skating, how they were looking forward to the rest of the remaining season, and eased into the conversation. Most of it would probably be edited out, but it was nice to not dive in right off the cuff.

"I understand you had to be away for a long time, Nikiforov-san." Morooka began, his demeanor growing a bit more direct, more professional. "You retired after breaking your ankle, and even your coach said that he wasn't able to find you. Where did you go?"

Viktor smiled sadly. "I was with an alpha named Ivan Molchalin."

"An alpha?" Morooka prompted, when Viktor didn't say anything more. It was awkward. Viktor supposed he could have simplified it all by saying, 'Ivan Molchalin took me, kept me enslaved for years, forced me to have a child and now I want my baby to come home.' In fact, part of him wished he could present it that way, but the audience needed to be eased into it, like this was a thriller in a movie theater. It made him ill to think about.

"Yes. He and I had been dating for a year when I announced my retirement, but he turned out to be… not what I thought."

"How do you mean that?"

Viktor took a deep breath and adjusted his legs.

"Take your time, Nikiforov-san." Another line that would likely be edited out, but he appreciated it all the same.

"He had forced a bond on me, and kept me away from everyone that cared about me."

"You mean to say that you were taken and held against your will?"

"Yes, exactly that. I've been held for the last five years by him, and he dosed me with hormones to make me become an omega."

Viktor couldn't help but look around, past the lights and saw several dumbfounded expressions on the crew. Morooka knew the story, the others did not. The Russian crew had been stoic, but he'd also not really chanced checking their faces. This interview felt a lot less formal, with the softer, roundabout way the questions were phrased. The questions in his native tongue had come sharp, quick, and while the woman had carefully looked sympathetic and sorry for him, he hadn't felt any real sympathy from her. Her interview had been just as much a performance as Yuuri's skating routines, except, Yuuri actually felt what he was skating. While Morooka didn't look surprised, the pang that crossed his face was definitely real as he heard it stated aloud.

Morooka continued asking questions, and Viktor did his best to explain the circumstances. Yes, he'd been used for sex. No, he hadn't wanted any of it. Yes, he had tried to escape several times. No, Ivan had not been arrested yet. Yes, the police were searching for him.

"You saw Katsuki Yuuri perform at Rostelecom. What happened? Were you there after escaping?"

"No. I was there with Ivan. I was drugged with heat hormones, but I recognized my best friend's name as Katsuki-san's choreographer. I used an old skater pass that fortunately no one checked very closely and approached him in the locker room. I asked him to get a message to Christophe Giacometti."

He gave a watered down account, leaving Yuuri's attending the party out of it. It would have looked too horrifying, like Yuuri frequented those types of functions. They were vague on the details, saying that Chris and Yakov had been able to find a way to help him escape. Morooka guided the conversation with ease, and they made it to the reason they were actually there. Yes, he'd had a baby during his time in captivity. Yes! He wanted her back, desperately.

"Even after all that sadness, you still would want to raise the child?"

"Yes. I'm sure it might sound odd to some people, but there was something about carrying her while I was pregnant. It was very sad how she was conceived, but I still bonded with her, and she brought me hope when I didn't have any. She became apart of me, and I feel her not being with me all the time. It's cliché, maybe, that I feel like a part of me is missing, but that's how I feel. I don't expect everyone to understand, given how her life began, but I love her dearly, and want to make sure she has a happy life."

"I think it will be hard for some people to understand."

Viktor nodded, "I know, it is definitely a surreal situation. I can never judge anyone that might have been in a similar situation as me for maybe not wanting to raise a child born out of such… horrible circumstances. But I love her. I'm doing this interview because I want to try and find her."

"Did you name her?"

"I did." Viktor couldn't help but smile softly as he thought of her name. "The name I gave her is Tatiana Viktorovna Nikiforova. I call her Tanya, and my friends and family call her that, too when we talk about her. I don't know what name the ones who took her gave her, but that’s what I call her."

"Where do you think she is?"

"I don't know. But I… I hope that the ones who have her are treating her with kindness. She didn't choose how she was conceived, didn't choose to be born, and all I can do is make sure that she has the opportunity to choose what will make her happiest in her life. I want that for her."

"When someone is in this situation, do they ever feel angry about what happened?"

"Of course, you do. You want justice to be served. I want those that harm others to be found and for the law to be upheld and followed to the best ability… But what I want, more than any of that, is only for my little girl to be found. I want her to be safe, healthy and happy. And I know as the one who gave birth to her that her best chance of that is with me."

"Do you have something you want to say to the ones who might have her?"

"I… I do. " Viktor took a deep breath and looked straight into the camera, eyes misting, voice clear. "As humans, we are all fallible, we all do things, or have things happen to us, that we might regret. I have no regrets in having my baby, and can't pass judgement on another person. So please, if you're the one that has Tanya, let her come home. I miss her very, very much." 

Viktor couldn't remember the final questions that Morooka asked, didn't register him ending the interview. His mind was completely wrapped up in Tanya. He wanted to hold her close, to reassure her that even though he'd gone on international television and told everyone she was born of rape that it didn't matter. He loved her. He did it for her, did his best to fight to find her and bring her home. It was silly, he knew. She wasn't old enough to understand any of that, but when she was older and asked about her origins, he wanted her to know how much he wanted her in his life and could only hope that she realized that she was the good that came from the bad.

The lights were turned off, Morooka bowed, thanking him again and shaking his hand. Viktor did notice that there were tears lining his eyes, and he appreciated it. Then Chris had him wrapped up in his arms and he broke down sobbing, not caring that the rest of the crew was still there, not caring who heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long to get this out to you. I think the one chapter a week posting schedule I'd been able to do before is no longer feasible, especially because these chapters are much, much longer than what I had originally planned. I apologize!
> 
> Update on upcoming Regency Fic: I unfortunately will not have enough of it done in time for Regency Week (though I am REALLY excited for that event!) Right now, I am focusing on getting this fic into a better rhythm for posting and then once that's under control I can divide my attentions. I have been working on it, though! And I'm really excited to share it with you when I have it more plotted out. <3 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read and your support! It means the world to me and I'm always so giddy to receive any of your comments and feedback. Thank you so much!


	15. How Can a Poor Boy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've been anointed, been appointed_   
_Even been magnified_   
_Spied a chapel all of gold_   
_The priest was laying down with the swine_   
_How can a poor boy get a little message to you?_   
_How can a poor boy when you don't believe anything is true?_   
_Watch the illusion of false security_   
_Play of the shadows that move_   
_Tell me what evil lurks in the hearts of men_   
_Only the shadow knows_   
_How can a poor boy get this message to you?_   
_How can a poor boy when you don't believe a thing that's true, for you?_
> 
> _~How Can a Poor Boy, Van Morrison _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
None

Viktor's eyes were still red as they all piled into the taxi that would take them to the rink. Levin and Yuuri had their skating gear already, and Chris held a bag that contained another change of clothing for both Viktor and himself. It had taken Viktor quite a while to calm down in the hotel room's bathroom, with Chris standing near and soothingly rubbing his back as he washed his face. Now, they were piled into a cramped car with their bags perched on their laps. Yuuri was between Chris and Viktor in the back and Levin in the front. 

None of them said much. Chris only asked if Viktor was sure about going to the rink with them, and when Viktor said he wanted to go, Chris suspected that it was because he didn't want to be alone at the apartment. Though, seeing Viktor holding onto Yuuri's hand made him chuckle internally. It seemed the pair had been growing far closer than he'd expected, probably more than either of them had expected, too. Objectively, if circumstances were different, Chris might have eventually come to a scheme of setting them up on a date, but that hadn't been meant to be.

Chris caught Levin's eye and offered a smile, sending love and appreciation through their bond, as well as amusement. Levin turned a bit more to see what it was that had him entertained, and winked before settling back in his seat, returning the same emotions back through. They would talk about it later, he was sure. The other two didn't notice their looking, though. Yuuri had his head bowed in thought, and Viktor was leaning his head against the car window, watching the streets pass by. Viktor had done wonderfully, Chris thought, even if it had been extremely harrowing to watch him go through, not one, but two awful interviews. Nevermind one was in a language he couldn't understand. Viktor's expressions had been telling enough. 

Before they had left, the Russian interviewer had said she expected it to be aired within the next couple nights. Chris texted Yakov immediately after, and he said he would watch for it. Morooka said it would be later in the week after editing and approval to run it went through. He wasn't normally one that was on video interviews, but because Yuuri had requested him specifically, his news station had acquiesced. Thank god Morooka was a Katsuki Yuuri fan. 

They pulled up to the rink and clambered out of the car. Levin paid the driver and extended his hand for Chris. God, he loved that man. He had no idea how he would have been able to get everything set up for the press conference without his help, or been able to survive the last few months on his own. Levin was his rock, his lighthouse in a storm, and he didn't give a damn how cheesy that made him. He needed his mate. 

As they began walking toward the doors, there was a concerned "Viktor?" from behind them. Pausing and turning to check what was wrong, Chris' heart sank. Viktor was staring at the building like it was a monster. This would be the first time he'd been anywhere near the ice in years. In Chris' mind, Rostelecom didn't count. He'd been too drugged to recognize its significance. Levin squeezed his hand for reassurance and then went ahead without them. Chris didn't even have to ask. Levin would make sure the locker rooms were as cleared as possible for all of them to get changed. 

Chris retraced his steps and hooked his arm into Viktor's. Yuuri was still holding his hand, looking at Chris quite at a loss.

"You don’t have to skate, you know, _chérie._" Chris said quietly. Viktor nodded, but didn't say anything. "Do you need to go back home?"

This time Viktor shook his head, still with a cat holding his tongue. Yuuri frowned at his lack of response. 

"What do you need, Vitya?" Chris asked. Viktor swallowed thickly. 

"A minute." His voice was hoarse. 

"Alone?"

The response he received was Viktor squeezing his arm tighter to his body.

"Okay, we'll stay, _chérie. _Take your time."

They stood there long enough for the chill of the day to start edging its way through Chris' overcoat. Though the shivering that Viktor seemed to be suffering didn't appear to be from the weather. His blue eyes were still fixed on the doors, but were slowly fading from fear to determination. 

"I'm ready." Viktor said and started toward the entrance. Chris gave Yuuri a grin and a wink, though Yuuri predictably seemed nervous, worried, for his new coach. They walked through a rush of heat from the ceiling vents that gave way to the smell of ice, sweat, and the rubber of the mats that made up the bulk of the flooring. Chris had always loved this rink. It was well lit, with large windows edging the tops of the walls. It offered a view of the sky, and on sunny days it really felt like one could be flying through the clouds. It wasn't such a day, however, with the winter weather showing a sheet of gray. The rest of the building was painted warmly, the floors a deep maroon that was near a mahogany. It was his second home. 

He watched Yuuri watching Viktor carefully as he took in the sight. There were a few skaters practicing, and the soothing sounds of blades cutting ice was the main soundtrack. Chris stood back apace, waiting for Viktor to decide what he wanted to do first, if he wanted to change or look around a bit more. 

"Are you going to just stand there and look pretty? Or are we going to work?" Viktor challenged him, though his voice was meek. When competing, they had always fallen into a friendly banter. Egging each other on to do better, be better, work harder. It was obvious that was what Viktor was going for, and Chris choked in surprise. It seemed almost too much to hope that they would be able to push each other to become better coaches, just as they had as skaters, but the beginnings of it were there.

It took him far too long to recover, and he burst out laughing. "_Mon Dieu, mon cher, _I can't help that I’m a pretty face. God simply blessed me." But he turned anyway and led Viktor to the locker rooms, Yuuri trailing behind, still with his hand tightly grasped by Viktor. Levin was already changed into his work out clothes, and as Chris suspected, the room was devoid of any other people. Normally, his husband would have already had his practice, but with how busy they had been, he was planning on practicing alone that evening. 

They changed in silence. Chris unfolded a garment bag that would hold all three suits and Viktor's slacks until they got back home. He was still carefully watching Viktor out of the corner of his eye, noting how Yuuri lingered close by, shooting worried looks his way and then checking to make sure Chris was paying attention. Viktor didn't notice either of them. He was staring ahead, the motions of pulling on more comfortable clothing rote. They still hadn't been able to get him any athletic footwear, and Chris cringed at how he'd promised Viktor a proper shopping trip but they hadn't been able to make it happen. 

The next day wasn't looking any less busy. They had Viktor's appointment with the omega specialist, and then the first two appointments with the therapists he would be interviewing. Though, there were a couple hours between them, and perhaps he'd be able to take Viktor then. But there was also Yuuri's practice to worry about, and while Levin didn't mind taking over while Viktor had been in heat, he had to train for Europeans that would be happening in less than two weeks - let alone the Olympics. He ran over the days in his head, realizing that he'd also nearly forgotten his own heat that would be happening that weekend. Just one more thing to worry about, to work into the schedule…

"We're not doing this." Yuuri said firmly, making Chris jump and jerk his head toward him. He wasn't looking at anyone but Viktor, who was blinking at him. 

"_Mon chou?" _Chris asked when Viktor didn't say anything.

"We're going home." Yuuri reiterated, putting his skates back in his bag and zipping it closed. "At least I am. And it's… it's pointless for Vitya to stay without his student, right?"

Viktor's eyes were glassy and, Chris suddenly realized, unfocused. Chris could have kicked himself for not noticing how exhausted he was, for not insisting on taking a break for the evening, for taking Viktor at his word that he was alright. There were times to push through, and times where it was enough, and Viktor had never been one to be able to differentiate between the two. 

Viktor still only had one of his boots in his hands, and he was looking up from the bench at Yuuri as though he was still trying to understand exactly what he'd said. 

"Do you want some dinner, Vitya? We can pick up something on the way if you want." Yuuri told him, all previous decisiveness gone. "Or I could make something?"

"Um…" Viktor swallowed thickly, and Chris narrowed his eyes at how Viktor was struggling to speak. He had never seen Viktor like this. Yuuri? Yes. Yuuri would sometimes struggle to speak properly when he was… Oh. 

Chris actually did kick himself then, at least mentally, for not realizing that Viktor was trying to push his way through a panic attack. He'd never known Viktor to actually have them, other than the time at the airport when he couldn't bring himself to walk into the crowd. In retrospect, he'd assumed that it was because Viktor had been in preheat and neither of them had noticed. Viktor had been fine when they went out to eat after seeing the police, and had been alright, he thought, when Yuuri had taken him shopping to the grocery and to the boutique where Chris sent them to get a pair of dress shoes. Granted, those hadn't been as crowded as the airport. 

But Yuuri had explained, once, that sometimes panic attacks could be the result of a trauma, and it was why he'd been so mentally distressed after his beloved pet had died all those years ago. If anyone had been through a trauma…

"Maybe I'll just make something?" Yuuri continued when Viktor didn't, or couldn't, answer. "And we can work at home, instead?" 

Viktor nodded. "Sounds good." He offered weakly, and then looked toward Chris questioningly. 

"Do you want me to come?" he asked, "I have work I can do here, or I can bring it home too. It's up to you, _chérie."_

The omega shrugged softly and let his eyes fall to the boot he was still holding. "… Up to you."

Yuuri squared his shoulders and sat next to him, studying his face for a moment. "Maybe… give us some time to get dinner ready, and then just come home a little early?" he told Chris as a compromise. The answer was how Viktor's shoulders started to relax. Chris couldn't help but simply stare at Yuuri, marveling at how he was able to know exactly what to do. He knew they had formed a scent bond, and Chris, being already bonded, had already noticed the effects of his own scent bond with Viktor dissipating over the weekend. Smiling as gently as he could, he agreed and then closed his locker. 

"I'll bring the suits when I come home. Just text me when dinner is almost ready." He glanced back at Yuuri who gave a small smile and nodded. Chris took it for what it was. Viktor needed some space, for now, and Yuuri would be there to help him through it. He would text if he needed anything. 

He left the locker room, heading to the ice to see his husband just finishing his stretches and lacing up his skates. Those warm eyes found him and he breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing could have prepared him for the difficulty of watching his best friend going through day upon day of hell, with really no end in sight. Silently, he thanked whatever god had graced him with such an amazing mate as he sat next to Levin on the bench. 

"They're going home." was all he had to say, his voice betraying him with how thick and strained it sounded. Levin laced his fingers through his, and Chris felt his soothing through their bond. "I love you."

"I love you." Levin returned with a squeeze, and then fixed his gaze over his shoulder. Chris turned in time to see Yuuri and Viktor walking out of the locker room, hand in hand, and toward the exit, Viktor glancing over his shoulder to the ice with an expression mixed with fear and longing. "Just give it time, yes?"

"I guess that's all we can do." Chris agreed in a whisper. He left the rest unspoken, knowing Levin would understand that he wished he could do so much more. Comforting arms came around his shoulders with a chaste kiss below his ear. 

* * *

**From: The King's Skater; 13:47 **

**Have you sent that email yet? XOXO**

**From: The King's Skater; 13:49**

**How did the conference go? Are you okay? Is Viktor?**

Yuuri closed out of his text messages without responding, making a mental note to send an email to his therapist Maria a little later. For now, he needed to focus on Viktor, who was curled under a plush blanket and fiddling with that pink handkerchief in his hands. It seemed the panic attack was over, but Yuuri knew first hand just how draining they could be. 

"I'm sorry." Viktor said quietly, uneasy. He wasn't facing Yuuri, but had his eyes fixed on the rug. "I didn't mean to pull you away from practice."

Yuuri frowned, trying to decide on how to respond. In truth, he'd wanted nothing more than to slide his skates on and get lost on the ice like he would in Hasetsu or Detroit. The day had been terrible, and the ice was always a comfort. It was odd, because it was like slipping into a hot spring, or wrapping himself in a sun-warmed blanket, even though the ice was so cold, but that was the best analogy he had for it. His muscles would relax, at least at first, and whatever tension he held would be left outside the rink. The world was always paused as his mind cleared. He was forced to think about his movements alone, as a careless, unfocused move could result in injury if he let the anxiety come onto the unforgiving sheet with him. He only messed up terribly if he was too wrapped up in his head. It offered him space to think logically, and when he stepped off the ice, there was a sense of being able to face whatever else had been momentarily left behind. If he could throw his body into four rotations of a jump, he could do anything, even if the jump ended in a fall. The physical pain sometimes helped, too, in that it offered an outlet outside of himself on which to focus.

It seemed he deliberated too long, though, as Viktor curled up tighter on the couch, hiding his face in his blanket. Sighing, Yuuri knew he'd made more than one mistake that day with Viktor, and he hated it. He hated Viktor feeling like he didn't want him as his coach, that he was frustrated with missing practice, that Viktor was deep in his own head and he didn't know how to help pull him out of it. 

"Today was a rough day." Yuuri said softly. Viktor didn't give any indication he'd heard him, but Yuuri continued anyway. "And we can try again tomorrow?"

"I have doctors appointments…" Viktor sighed, his voice muffled by the fabric. "I'm stealing your coach tomorrow, too." He poked his head out, eyes wide and watery, "I'm so sorry, Yuuri. If I had known it was going to be like this, I wouldn't have asked you to come. You need to be able to have a coach that will give you all their attention. This season is too important and I'm ruining it."

Yuuri bit his lip, trying to keep from laughing. Viktor's worries were valid, if unfounded, as he'd been able to keep up most of his practices even with everything going on, and he was still receiving coaching from the videos he sent Celestino. There was no way to open his mouth to say it, to explain and assuage Viktor's worries. He wanted to, but if he started speaking he'd burst out into a fit of giggles, and it just wasn't the time.

"Yuuri?" Viktor asked, pleading. 

He snorted into his hand and had to look away. He couldn't help it. Viktor's normally perfect hair was sticking up every which way from the blanket rubbing it the wrong way. Add that to how wide his eyes were, how he was pouting, and now, looked very confused, and Yuuri couldn't hold it in. Maybe there was a bit of the tension that needed to be let out somehow, too, which made his outburst even more explosive, but Viktor looked… really cute. Ridiculous and adorable.

"Yuuri, what-?"

"I'm sorry!" Yuuri gasped, trying to regain control of himself. "I'm so sorry… I'm not laughing at - at what you said, I promise!"

Viktor was still staring, still pouting at him, as he took deep breaths to recover his composure. Moving closer, he reached out and smoothed some of the hair back into place, Viktor's eyes growing and growing. 

"I'm sorry." he apologized again, and Viktor's hand shot up to his hair as he realized what had caused Yuuri to react so inappropriately. Yuuri clamped down on his cheek to stop another outburst at how horrified the man looked, and forced himself to settle into a smile instead. 

"Yuuuuri~!" Viktor cried, though there was a twinge of a smile playing along his mouth. "So mean. I'm trying to have a serious discussion, and you make fun of me!"

"I am not!" Yuuri protested, despite all evidence to the contrary. "You looked really…" he cut himself off before he could embarrass himself further, but Viktor looked far too curious now. 

"I looked what?"

"What do you want for dinner?" Yuuri asked him in a rush, jumping up as his face flooded with blood. He wished he didn't blush at the drop of a hat, or from a single phrase from Viktor. He was twenty-five years old, he shouldn't be blushing like a child. 

Viktor caught the sleeve of his sweater and tugged petulantly, "Yuuri! Tell me!"

"I think we have s-some leftover Olivier salad… do you want that?"

"I'm not hungry. Did I look awful? Stupid?" Viktor wasn't letting go of his sleeve, and when Yuuri tried to pull away, Viktor only jerked on the cuff harder, making Yuuri stumble and barely catch himself before he landed right on top of the omega.

"S-sorry!" Yuuri burst out, scrambling to stand again. Viktor started laughing and swung his legs over the couch to sit up, still clutching at Yuuri's arm. Their breaths were heavier from laughing and the surprise of nearly colliding, and Viktor gave what Yuuri could only assume was his best puppy eyes. 

"Please tell me? Did I look terrible?"

"No. You didn't l-look terrible." Yuuri averted his eyes and could still feel his cheeks heated. He sat back down, closer than he normally would given Viktor still had hold of his clothes. "It just wasn't what I expected."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, again. A pang flashed through Viktor's expression and a belated sour note to his scent reached Yuuri's nose as Viktor let go and shifted awkwardly, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The teasing moment was over, and Viktor retreated once more. 

"Vitya… I…" Yuuri began, still unsure how to fix whatever was wrong. "I'm sorry."

Viktor's chuckle was devoid of mirth, "You keep saying that. Do you know what you're apologizing for?"

"F-for earlier today. And for laughing and… for m-making you feel l-like you're interrupting my practice schedule." Yuuri tried to explain. "Because… at the press conference, nothing was wrong. It's… it's really dumb. I forget, sometimes, that I… that I'm…" 

Yuuri faltered, but Viktor remained quiet, patiently waiting for him to continue. Groaning, Yuuri buried his face in his hands. It was now or never, and Yuuri knew he wouldn't be able to keep seeing Viktor so sad and uncomfortable about his strange actions of the day. It was already shaping up to be something that would divide them, something that would always make Viktor wonder, and Yuuri knew how painful it was to wonder. 

"It's really weird sometimes that I'm living and going to be training with the person I looked up to all my career and when we announced you'd be my coach it just _hit_ me, and I'm so sorry that I made you worry that I don't want you around-because-I-really-really-do-and I'm just so sorry that you're stuck with a psycho fan for a student!" he spilled out all at once, each word tumbling out of his mouth faster than the previous.

When he was done talking, he took a shaky sigh and still kept his hands over his face, hunched over his knees. Viktor had inhaled sharply, but said nothing. The silence loomed over them and stretched for what seemed like years. Now he had done it. He had sufficiently frightened Viktor, as if the man hadn't been through enough, didn't have enough going on or enough to deal with. At least he knew, now, how disturbing Yuuri was. He should call Celestino and tell him he would meet him and Phichit in Thailand. He should start packing. Better yet, he should just withdraw for the season, fake an injury, give Viktor all the space he needed so he could heal without Yuuri's stupidity hovering over him. He was waiting for Viktor to tell him to get out, to demand that he leave and never talk to him, never try to contact him again. The thought gouged deep, but if it was what Viktor wanted, then he'd do it. Phichit would commiserate with him, would kick his ass back into gear and tell him how dumb it was to try and act normal when he was anything but. 

There were arms wrapping around his shoulders, covered by a soft blanket and he froze. He was too shocked to resist being pulled against Viktor's chest, and had to fight down a squeak when he heard a soft, "Oh, Yuuri…" above him. Some sort of inhuman sound traitorously strangled out of his throat anyway, and Viktor only tightened his grip. 

Yuuri couldn't move. If he were completely honest with himself, he didn't want to. Viktor was warm, and his lavender and lemon scent was far more comforting than Yuuri ever wanted to admit. There was also something dusky, like a soft wood that Yuuri knew was from his shampoo. Reluctantly, he let his hands fall away and peeked up to see Viktor… smiling?

"You're so silly, Yuuri." Viktor chuckled, and all too soon, he helped Yuuri sit up. "I don't think you're a 'psycho fan'. I've had those. You've always been very kind and respectful."

"You… you aren't freaked out?"

Viktor laughed and adjusted his blanket, "Even if I hadn't… been gone for a while, I wouldn't be freaked out. Unless you were the one that wrote me and asked for my_ unwashed _dance belt?"

"Of course not! Someone did that?" Yuuri's eyes went indignant wide as Viktor confirmed with a nod. " I mean… all I really did was try to skate your routines and bought a lot of poste-!" he clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. It was bad enough that he'd already vomited his fanboy feelings not two minute prior. Now, he'd just admitted to having 'a lot' of pictures of Viktor. If the ground could somehow swallow him and leave Viktor and the apartment safe, that would have been ideal.

"Posters?!" Viktor was infuriatingly happy over this and he started to tug on Yuuri's hands. "Which ones? Oh! Did you have the one I did for Mercedes?"

Yuuri did, but he shook his head furiously, fingers digging into his cheeks to keep his hands firmly in place. He was sure he was beet red.

"Adidas? I liked that one."

Of course he had that one.

"'Got Milk?' I couldn't stop laughing on that shoot." 

Yuuri's eyes were strained from not blinking. He was sure there was almost no poster that was missing from his collection, but he refused to say anything more. Hadn't he already embarrassed himself enough for one day? But Viktor wasn't done yet, apparently.

"Do you have any here? I could sign them! Have Phichit or your mom send some!" Viktor was still playfully pulling on his arm, giggling and having the time of his life at Yuuri's expense, it seemed. Damn him for being perceptive enough to know Yuuri had collections at both homes. "Yuuuri~! Don't be so shy! I think it's cute."

Another strangled squeak somehow erupted, and it only made Viktor laugh harder. He gave up trying to move Yuuri's hands away from his mouth, however, and threw an arm around his shoulders again.

* * *

"Yura, are you sure it's scheduled on that damned box?" Yakov asked for the millionth time, his voice echoing from the other side of the open door. Yuri rolled his eyes, also for the millionth time and groaned.

"Oh, my go- It's set up!" He snapped toward the door that led to the sitting room. He really didn't blame Yakov for being worried about missing the interview. The news had already been having a field day, speculating where Viktor had been, why he was coaching in Switzerland instead of Russia, and a Japanese skater on top of that, like he was a traitor for taking his talent elsewhere. The clock was inching toward six, and Yuri was getting antsy, too. 

He and Lilia were in the dining room, folding the last of Viktor's clothes into the last box. Out of all the stuff that Viktor had and that they had sorted through, they were only sending him a two boxes. Granted, they were pretty large boxes holding workout clothes that had been more new than used at the time of his disappearance, a few dress shirts, what Yakov insisted were Viktor's favorite ties, shoes that weren't too out of shape, two suits that had been tailored and would likely need to be refitted, an overcoat, his Olympic jacket, along with his favorite books and Russian movies that wouldn't be as readily available where he currently resided. 

Lilia kept looking at the grand clock that sat on top of the decorative china cabinet. The china had apparently survived the Revolution, the second World War, and the Soviet Union, hidden carefully by Lilia's grandmothers, and Lilia, for nearly a century, and was subsequently Lilia's pride and had never been used for dinner. The clock had been a wedding gift and would chime out the Malinovsky Chimes that the Kremlin Clock would ring out on the hour. The long hand twitched forward toward the XII, and every time it did, Lilia's eyes would be narrowed on it.

"Madame, go watch." Yuri told her. If it had been up to him, he would have just shoved all the clothes in the boxes and been done with it, but she had watched him just as carefully as she did while he was at the barre. Every article had to folded just so, and they both know she would check the results even if she left the room. Lilia's hands were still moving stiffly across one of the tees, her fingers smoothing wistfully along the hem. Yuri was going to kill Viktor when he texted him next. He knew Viktor hadn't called her. "I'll finish up with this crap."

The ghost of a smile she flashed him was gone as quick as it came, and she wordlessly pat his head once as she walked behind him to go join her ex-husband. It was about as much affection as Yuri could stand, and therefore, he knew, all that she would give. His cheeks still turned pink, though. He continued folding, more carefully without an audience so that Lilia would have nothing to redo when she checked his work, but when the Malinovsky Chimes began, he dropped the shirt he was holding and ran to where his coach and ballet teacher were. 

Yuri knew that the news program was a knock-off of some American show that ran once a week. It was always exclusive interviews from political figures, controversial athletes that weren't _too_ controversial, or exposés on various social issues that the Prime Minister wanted solved rather than what actually needed to be fixed. The newscaster's face was famous in Russia, and Yuri was surprised that they had been able to swing having her be the one to interview Viktor for a full hour of television. He sat on the couch, closer to Lilia in her wingback armchair where she always drank her tea and read a book in the evenings. Yakov was scowling at the television, the conflict of needing to watch the interview and also very much not wanting to apparent on his face. Yuri had already asked if the show was a good idea, wondering if the Bratva would be angry at a spotlight being fixated on human trafficking after this. Yakov had said Viktor hadn't brought them up at all, had pointed everything towards his bastard of a mate and not a general group. He was doing this for his daughter. 

And that information had certainly sent Yuri reeling. Beka had to hold him the entire night after Yakov had explained, though he'd be damned if he ever would cop to it. 

The theme song for the show began after the final commercial and Yuri preemptively checked to ensure it was recording, before Yakov could bark at him to make sure. Why Yakov wanted to keep it, he had no idea, but he figured maybe it would be useful in the future, though he couldn't figure how. He glanced toward Lilia, who was frowning. It took him a second to figure out why, when he realized that the night's programing being explained had nothing to do with Viktor.

"Uh… did we get the right night?" Yuri asked, just before Viktor's face came on the screen. The show explained that this program would be divided into several different segments and be dedicated to figure skating stars of the past, and what had led to their retirements. They cut to footage that was very old, like, before Yuri's time, old. 

Viktor's face was on the screen with a voiceover explaining he had retired after mysteriously breaking his ankle five years ago, and Yuri nearly smiled at how well his hollow cheeks were filling in. Nearly. A quick glance to his right made him flinch. He'd only seen Lilia cry a few times, and that was when he'd moved her to happy, proud tears at his competitions, or when a ballet transcended her expectations. The tears on her face now were a mother's tears, and he felt like he was intruding if he looked at her.

"Those sons of bitches…" Yakov growled. Footage that had already been all over the news, the press conference, was playing, with a Viktor's voice explaining that he was very happy to get back to skating and was excited for the future with Katsuki. 

It then cut to what appeared to be the actual interview, and Viktor was smiling as he spoke.

"I love my country. I will always be proud of being able to stand on the podium for Russia before I retired."

The screen went to the woman, "Why _did_ you retire?"

Viktor's face was panged as he said, "My ankle was broken too badly to ever go back to competing." the screen faded to a sepia toned press conference, the one where Viktor had originally announced his retirement. Yuri remembered watching it, remembered Yakov's jaw dropping and getting on the phone to dial Viktor immediately in a panic. Viktor's voice on the television continued, "I was dating someone at the time, an alpha… and he hurt me. I was… embarrassed… I couldn't keep… going on."

Yuri jumped to his feet, "That was fucking _spliced!_" He snarled, rage spilling from his every pore. The jilted way the audio had been mixed made it clear they had strung together a sentence from different parts of the interview to fit whatever they were spewing. Yuri whirled on Yakov, pointing accusingly at the television, "Yakov! What kind of bullshit is this?"

"Rewind it, Yura." Lilia commanded coldly from behind him, her tears now replaced with fury. "Let me hear it again."

Yuri growled as he pushed the button and restarted Viktor's segment. They listened and on the second go around, it seemed even more obvious. 

"Yura, film this on your phone." Yakov said sharply.

"Huh? Why?"

"Phone!"

Yuri did as he was told and restarted it again, recording the television as closely cropped as he could. Everyone was silent as they continued past the point where Yuri had exploded. A soft footstep and a glance over his shoulder revealed Beka coming in to stand behind the couch, fresh from a shower and with a towel over his shoulders to catch his dripping hair. He frowned as he looked at the screen and then at Yuri's phone still recording. The show went on, cutting between Viktor giving statements that were obviously filmed just a few days ago, and then others that were previous interviews, and some sentences that were doctored. It went on for ten minutes before moving on to another skater's story of retirement. Otabek's hand was placed gently on Yuri's shoulder, silently encouraging him to stop letting off his outraged pheromones. 

"What did I miss?" he asked after Yakov told Yuri he could stop recording.

"They fucking took out everything about that piss-eater and about Viktor's little girl!" Yuri snarled. Otabek scowled and looked between Lilia and Yakov, who were equal parts disturbed and furious. "But why the fuck would they do that? Is it the Bratva? I _told_ you it was a bad idea!"

"It's not the Bratva." Yakov insisted, getting to his feet and pulling out his own phone. "It's either the media itself or government. Email me that footage, Yura, save it somewhere secure like where you get your American news, and then delete it. Lia, call your cousin. Is she back from Geneva, yet?"

Yuri's eyes widened. This was so much worse than the Bratva.

* * *

Mari took a sip of her beer and frowned at the television. Yuuri had a lot to answer for, in her opinion. They were halfway through the interview that her little shit of a brother had told them to watch. She loved him. She would die for him. But he was still a little shit.

How it was that Yuuri thought a ten minute phone call on New Year's morning would be enough to explain _this_, she had no idea. She should have suspected more, as Yuuri's tone had been rushed and hurried, like he'd wanted to get the conversation over with as fast as possible. At the time, she'd assumed that it was because he'd had evening plans with Viktor, and it wasn't lost on her how excited he might have been for them. Now, it stung of half-truths no doubt meant to soothe over his family's worries. All was well, because it had ended well, when really, it hadn't ended at all.

Minako leaned over to whisper, "Didn't he say that he only went to Moscow to help Viktor get out of a bad relationship?"

"Yeah." Mari nodded. From what Viktor Nikiforov was saying, (and Mari could still scarcely believe that it was the skater that had plastered his walls for years that was on the screen and had just been talking about how excited he was to teach Yuuri,) it hadn't been just a 'bad relationship'. It had been human trafficking. The smiling or emotive face that had been the source of much teasing on her part and blushing on Yuuri's had been trafficked. That was something that only the worst Yakuza families got into, and those families were typically shunned by the more honorable Yakuza that dealt primarily with business, drugs and arms. Yuuri had said he'd been hit while trying to help Viktor escape an abusive relationship that had lasted for five years, but that he was fine and the bruises didn't hurt. She supposed that much was true, but now she, and Minako it seemed, wondered just how much Yuuri had left out of his story.

"I'm going to kill him." Minako muttered under her breath. Mari hummed her agreement and glanced toward her parents. They were completely engaged in the story Viktor was telling. Hiroko had already declared that Viktor needed to eat more and was planning on sending a huge care package to Yuuri the next day, with lots of miso, udon, and natto for the skinny _gaijin_. Toshiya was concerned, and had voiced that he was glad Yuuri hadn't encountered any terrible relationships like Viktor had. Mari didn't know if they were missing what was between the lines, or if they knew full well all of what Viktor was implying and were choosing to keep a polite, non-invasive attitude. 

They weren't dumb, so she figured it was the latter, but it still didn't sit right with her. Yuuri should have been more upfront. He shouldn't have put himself in so much danger. Though, the fact that he did, for Viktor, was just so incredibly _Yuuri_ that she couldn't help but admire him a little bit more. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as the 'what might have been's' nested in, unwelcome. She wanted to shake him, hard, and then lock him in his room so he would never do anything so stupid ever again. She wanted to go back to chasing him, begging him to not tell their parents that he'd caught her smoking behind the school, to wrap him more snugly under the _kotatsu_ as he fell asleep watching re-runs of Sailor Moon, to hide his Olympic medal on the shrine for Vicchan again, so that he'd tear up and say his reverential 'Thank you.' and surprise her with a hug. 

She nearly missed when Viktor started talking about a baby as she was thinking. It was Minako's sake cup clattered to the table that brought her attention back to the television. Hiroko had her hands over her mouth and Toshiya, in a moment of rare displayed affection, had his arm around her. They watched in silence as Viktor pled for his daughter to be returned, and even Mari felt her throat restricting as she planned on going to the store to add some specialty Kit Kats to the care package. Her mom was right, he was too skinny.

* * *

"Babe! Did he just say what I think he said?" Phichit shouted at the phone that had his beautiful omega on a video call. His laptop was playing Viktor's interview, looped in, surreptitiously, to a stream of the news that was airing in Japan. Seung Gil was watching, too, but from television. Phichit had originally intended on finishing packing while watching and giving commentary to Seung Gil, but as soon as Viktor started talking about his experience, he knew he had to give the video his undivided attention out of respect. Only talking to the man a half a world away took broke his concentration as he held his breath through most of the interview.

Seung Gil had been quiet through most of it, offering sympathetic sounds when Phichit started tearing up at certain points, and this was the one time that Phichit didn't mind that his boyfriend wasn't really looking at the camera. It was a silent agreement that Viktor demanded more than just passing interest, not because he had once been the skater everyone, including them, aspired to reach, but because his horrifying experience thrust him onto some human plane that would bring everyone to their knees and hold their loved ones closer. 

"He has a daughter." Seung Gil confirmed, his brows knitted as he pet his husky that was begging for attention. Phichit put his hand over his heart and slumped in his chair, staring devastated at his computer. The one part of the conversation he hadn't understood in the frantic, fashion advice video call screamed to clarity. Viktor had a frustrated outburst, a small one wherein he groaned and tossed his entire limited wardrobe on his bed, lamenting that he couldn't even borrow Chris' clothes because he'd lost so much weight. Yuuri had said, so quietly that Phichit wasn't even sure he'd heard it right at the time, 'For Tanya.' That simple phrase had Viktor nodding and swallowing thickly, and he presented the options of the button down or the turtle neck to Phichit for his input. 

"Oh, poor Viktor…" he murmured. They finished watching together in silence, Phichit biting his lower lip, heart aching for someone he'd only talked to twice. Though, he had to admit that Viktor looked amazing in the outfit he helped pick out for him. He let tears silently fall as Viktor said he'd pass no judgement on those that had his little girl, that the only thing he wanted was her to be returned. The interview ended and Phichit had to blow his nose.

"What are you thinking?" Seung Gil asked immediately, Phichit didn't miss the gentle accusation. After discarding his tissue, he leaned forward in his desk chair and began working on his computer with his hands too far below the camera frame. 

"I'm not thinking anything." Phichit lied, taking a screen shot of Viktor's face before he began dragging the play bar of the video across the timeline to find more, and transferred the video call to his laptop. Snatching his phone from its cradle that kept it propped up, he began tapping on the screen and opening several different apps. Seung Gil blinked to reorient himself to the new direct view of Phichit's face, and momentarily frowned.

"I can see you plotting, _tilak_."

"_Hyung_!" Phichit whined, playfully winking, though he could see his own expression was set in concentration. "Don't call me out like that. I'm just setting up a new Insta."

"Another one? It's not for Yu-jin and the hamsters, is it?"

"The world isn't ready for that kind of cuteness." Phichit laughed as the furry girl in question heard her name and nosed her way onto the screen. "Hi baby! I'll be able to see you a lot more soon! And take lots of pictures with Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup! _Then_ we can make you all Insta-Famous!"

"You will not." Seung Gil grumbled, wrapping his arms around Yu-jin's neck protectively as she licked his cheek, but Phichit knew he didn't actually mind. His boyfriend had dozens of pictures that he'd taken of the four pets. On his own. No begging required. "What account are you making?"

Phichit smiled. "'Find Tanya Nikiforova', of course!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Gaijin_ \- Foreigner  
2\. _Kotatsu_ \- A low table with a built in heater. (I have one and it is DIVINE)  
3\. _Tilak_ \- My darling. (100% Phichit's idea, not Seung Gil's)  
4\. _Hyung_ \- Direct is 'older brother', but really it's for younger males to address any male that is older than them. In context, it's a term of endearment. I just really liked the idea that Phichit and Seung Gil would occasionally use them. I'm a sucker for these types of tropes.
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> *sheepish* Okay. I know I said likely not once a week, but this chapter just flowed. ^^; I hope you like it. I am notorious for not being able to keep a set schedule, so I'm going to refrain from making any promises about when updates will be posted. Just know that this fic isn't going away any time soon! So if it's a few weeks between, just know I'm agonizing over some aspect that's not fitting well, and if it's just a few days, then I hope it's a happy surprise! <3 
> 
> Fun fact: I don't know if y'all are old enough to remember the 'got milk?' campaign - it had its biggest heyday in the late 90's and early 2000's, but apparently was only discontinued in 2014? Far be it from me to pass up an opportunity to have the image of Vitya sporting a milk moustache on a poster that Yuuri would definitely have clipped from a magazine… (Not that I did the same thing... >.>)


	16. Tried My Best to Be Guarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The broken locks were a warning_   
_You got inside my head_   
_Tried my best to be guarded_   
_I'm an open book instead_   
_I still see your reflection_   
_Inside my eyes_   
_That are looking for purpose_   
_They're still looking for life_
> 
> _~Broken, Lifehouse_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
Some mild violence at the end. I don't think it's too bad, so I haven't marked it, but if I should, let me know.

The morning after the interview aired in Japan brought hundreds of reporters to the rink. After that first day after the press conference and subsequent panic attack, Viktor had been able to go with his flat-mates without personal issue, but the flashing cameras and shouted questions were another thing altogether.

_"Viktor! Why are you coaching while your daughter is missing? Shouldn't you be searching for her?" _

_"What do you think about those that say your interview was just an elaborate excuse for how long you've been missing?" _

_"Do you have anything to say to your fans that are pushing the hashtag 'Find Tanya Nikiforova'?"_

_"Have there been any leads in the investigation?" _

_"Reports say that the news hasn't been seen in Russia, do you have a comment?" _

Viktor had many comments, but he bit his tongue and remembered why he'd once invested in so many pairs of Gucci sunglasses. Once his credit cards arrived, which Yakov reassured were on their way, that was the first thing he was going to order. He pushed through the throngs of reporters crowding him, Yuuri leading the way and Chris bringing up the rear with Levin honking from the car to get those in the way to move. 

It didn't surprise him when Yakov called in the late evening a couple nights prior to tell him the interview had been butchered in Russia. Galina, his lawyer, had already prepared him for the possibility they wouldn't air it at all, given the censorship that was still prevalent in his country, which is why he had agreed to the interview with Morooka. It had been worth a chance, though, that his story and pleas for Tanya would be able to be known by his country at large. He'd hoped that by not bringing in any other names, by pinning the whole of the five years on one man mostly unassociated with organized crime, that he'd be able to fall through the cracks. The last thing he wanted was to anger the Bratva, to paint an additional target on Tanya's back.

He wasn't surprised, but it still hurt.

Hurt that there wasn't a reciprocated loyalty from the country he'd sweat and bled for, that seemingly by taking up a foreign skater as a student, he'd bitten the hand that fed him. He personally felt that it had all been mutually beneficial. The lifestyle he'd thoroughly enjoyed had started with government funding, and then continued by his own work in branding himself, and he always, _always_, made sure to show his patriotism in everything he did. In foreign interviews, he tried to soften the severe image of Russia by speaking of warm winter nights in holiday lighting and good company, of days that didn't end with a sunset and instead were drawn out by the most lavish celebrations, of familial tradition, an ingrained passion for the arts and more. He loved his country. There was so much to love, far more than what wary outsiders found to hate.

Now, he almost wanted to burn his former favorite red and white jacket and pettily post the video of it turning to cinders online. Yakov had mentioned he was sending it. He wouldn't actually burn it, of course, it had been a high honor to wear it and it was comfy, but the idea held a sort of appeal to him, once the tears of pain turned to tears of anger. 

All he wanted was the most basic, human desire. What any good parent wanted: the safety of his child. They were denying him even the chance to look for that. 

He had been able to explain with a surprisingly even voice to Chris, Levin and Yuuri what Yakov had told him on their phone call. Yakov had thundered in the way only he could, and it had been obvious to the others that something was wrong with how Viktor held the phone at arms length and had still understood every shouted word. After a brief hug from Chris, one Viktor had cut short in lieu of crying, he said he was okay, that Morooka would help instead, and excused himself to take a shower. There, he'd been able to curl up under the stream of hot water and shed even hotter tears, muffling his sobs in his hands. 

Eyes rimmed red, he'd prepared for bed, pulling the decorative pillows off the mattress and turning down the thick blankets. Yuuri had knocked, tentatively, to ask if he could use the shower. Of course he could, Viktor had said, and then feigned sleep when Yuuri was finished using the facilities they shared. He'd expected that Yuuri would tiptoe through the darkened room, quietly close the door and that would be that. He was only half right. Yuuri had indeed tiptoed along the carpet, and Viktor listened as his footsteps faltered in their path and then drew closer. He kept his eyes shut firmly, trying to relax them enough to look as though he was asleep. 

"It'll be okay, Vitya." Yuuri had whispered, so soft that Viktor nearly missed it. He could feel a strand of his hair being brushed off his face, the touch so light Viktor could scarcely feel it save for the cool air kissing his forehead. His throat grew hot and tight as he lay there frozen with surprise, and then Yuuri ran his wrist along the pillow behind his head, surely thinking, quite rightly, that his scent was still a comfort, and then continued his hushed trek out of the room. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Viktor flung himself around, desperately grasping at the spot that Yuuri had just scented. He allowed the comfort to sink into him, begin to gently tug at every knot that was twisted tight in his stomach and chest. The stress and sorrow began to unravel, bringing further tears, of relief this time, and Viktor fell into an uneasy sleep. 

Now Yuuri was lacing up his skates while Viktor sipped his coffee with a hand that was only slightly trembling from their fight to get into the rink. 

"Do you really think I should use the same entry from Lohengrin for my combo?" Yuuri asked. Viktor appreciated the question for what it was, a distraction. He turned to the skater and nodded.

"_Da._ It was your signature for a while. Your fans will love it and judges will grade it higher for its difficulty." He explained his reasoning once more. 

Despite Chris and Yuuri's reassurances that he could simply take it easy, and be a coach in name only, Viktor had disagreed. For one, it was a good way to keep his mind from dwelling to hard on what was going on outside the rink. There were still flashes from the glass at the front door, even with the rink banning any press from entering the premises. It wasn't as though they could actually get any pictures, but that didn't stop them from trying. 

He also refused to be idle. There had been enough wasted days with Ivan, days where he'd only had the alpha for one-sided conversation, sex, and not much else. The memories of those days were fuzzy, but he remembered watching a lot of movies, mostly the same ones over and over, just for ways to pass the time. Now, his work visa status had been updated to 'pending', but it was looking promising according to his case worker, and so he'd be getting a paycheck, which he wouldn't allow unless he was actually doing his job. 

So, between the catastrophic therapy interviews and nerve wracking doctor appointment, he'd watched and studied all of Yuuri's past routines. Chris had given him a notebook and he'd even jot down some choreography ideas for next season for Yuuri, but he wasn't ready to share those quite yet. It was difficult, as he still didn't want to get on the ice to work out the actual footwork, and there wasn't exactly a lot of room in the apartment to dance it out. There was time enough for it all to be hashed out later anyway. 

One thing he'd noticed, however, was that Yuuri's performances from early on in his career held a charm that he had somehow lost along the way. Not that Yuuri wasn't fantastic as he was now, he still moved like a dancer, but there was a distinct difference. A turn of his hand, the curve of his spine, a delicate change of foot, the artistry had steadily given way in favor of the athleticism of the jumps. He knew why. Scoring had become very much emphasized in the competitive side of the sport, but Viktor felt at its core, skating was an emotive art. Yuuri had been especially good at that, and he wanted him to continue to expand on it, now that he had the jumps well in hand. He also felt that Yuuri should showcase his journey leading up to the Olympics, the nods to previous routines would show how much he had grown, that he hadn't forgotten what had led him there in the first place.

Yuuri was giving himself a few more stretches of his spine, the height of his skates putting him almost at Viktor's height. "What time is your appointment?"

"It's not 'til this afternoon." Viktor said, watching Levin pull his dance partner into a lift on the ice. He smirked and took another sip of his coffee, turning back to Yuuri, "Sorry, Yuuri, you'll have my undivided attention today." 

Chuckling, Yuuri removed his guards and placed them into Viktor's waiting hand. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Maybe I'll like it." 

Viktor gaped as Yuuri pushed away from the entrance and then shook his head with a small giggle. 

The appointment in question was one that Viktor was partially dreading. It was his first full session with the therapist he'd picked. Chris and he had scheduled six introduction appointments spread over the week. They ranged from 'not a good fit' to 'disastrous'. 

The first had been a dull little office. Dreary and without any comfort, despite the warm woods framing the whole waiting area. Instead of being uplifting, though, the colors had only been depressing with oversaturation and smelling stale. The omega coming out of the therapist's room, sobbing into her palm, had done little to inspire confidence, and the interview after had just spiraled from there. Viktor had squirmed under the piercing and closed expression of the counselor who explained 'victim mentality' and 'omega hysteria' as Viktor's symptoms. He had walked out before the half hour of allotted time was finished, Chris trailing behind with a barrage of insults levied at the alpha and a slam of the door. 

The next had at least been entertaining. She had been bubbly, so happy it almost hurt to look at her. Chris had been in that one, too, and they'd fought down laughs as she had them pass a decorated stick back and forth to talk, with her taking a turn as well. As soon as she explained something called 'psychic surgery' though, Viktor had lost control of the giggles he'd been suppressing and the therapist's bubbly nature had dissolved at once. He felt a little bad as she sniffed that he was looking down on alternative methods of healing. Sure, it was something that probably worked for others, he'd even enjoyed some relaxation methods like that in the past, but the mysticism she'd presented simply wasn't for him. 

At least it had made for some entertaining dinner conversation.

Two more therapy interviews had followed the day after, one that was halted before it started because Chris wasn't allowed in the room with him, and the next one that went okay, but Viktor didn't feel entirely comfortable with her, though he couldn't explain why. Chris and Yuuri both told him that it was important to feel at ease with whomever he chose, so he continued to hope that the next two would yield better results. 

Viktor hadn't even gone to the final one. The fifth had just clicked, and Viktor was glad that Chris had dragged him away from the rink to go after nearly giving up hope that there would be anyone that would be able to help him. All the previous had been supposedly certified to deal with trauma, but when he'd met the kind beta woman named Bianca with an open smile and intelligent eyes, he'd felt that she could actually help. She followed skating enough to know who he was, so he hadn't needed to explain too much about his disappearance, and she'd simply let him and Chris ask questions. She'd been open and both of them felt like she was honest in her answers. There was an open admission that Viktor's experiences were unique and challenging, but she promised to take things at his pace. It was then he realized why the fourth had made him uncomfortable. She had made him feel like a project, like if she had been able to stitch him back together then it would be a feather in her cap, but Bianca seemed to prioritize _him_ over getting accolades in her field. He wouldn't just be a case study, or a statistic, with her.

They hadn't left without scheduling a full appointment for the next afternoon, Bianca working around some of her other obligations so they could get started as quickly as possible. 

He hoped his instincts weren't wrong about her.

* * *

**To: The King's Skater, 14:32**

**[Screenshot]**

**I'll be skyping Maria on Sunday.**

**To: The King's Skater, 14:32**

**Care to explain the new Instagram account for Tanya?**

**From: The King's Skater, 14:37**

**Thank you for letting me know!**

**From: The King's Skater, 14:38**

**I figured Viktor needed all the exposure he could get. Is he okay with it?**

**To: The King's Skater, 14:39**

**I haven't asked, but I don't think he'll mind. He did the interview for exposure.**

**From: The King's Skater, 14:40**

**I won't post anything he doesn't want me to. But the response has already been really overwhelmingly positive. Everyone is cheering him on!**

**From: The King's Skater, 14:45**

**Can you ask if it's okay for me to post about the bullshit in Russia? Or even if he wants to post a vlog response about it?**

Yuuri groaned at the last text. Phichit meant well, of course, but Viktor hadn't mentioned anything about Russia ever since Yakov had called to tell them what had happened. Yakov then had Yuri Plisetsky send a recording of the interview. Viktor handed off his phone for the three of them to watch it while he went to hide in his room. Yuuri didn't blame him in the least. 

Watching the video, however, rage consumed him like it hadn't since he had met Ivan face to face. How they had cheapened the emotional strain Viktor had undergone to even sit for the interview, all to find his little girl. When Chris pointed out it was likely a censorship put in place by people that were higher up in either government or media, Yuuri had to excuse himself, too. 

He'd paced in his room for a good hour, trying to calm himself, trying not to blow up, and after the rest of the apartment was quiet, he snuck into Viktor's bathroom for a good long shower. His skin was scrubbed nearly raw, as if that would do any good to distance himself from the filth he really had no part in, but still felt keenly with how he was having trouble controlling his own scent. 

Somehow, he'd been able to get it under control before the next morning. When Viktor didn't bring it up, neither had he, and they'd simply continued their routine. The days between the press conference and the interview with Morooka being aired, though, were peaceful compared to what they were dealing with currently. There had been some reporters dogging their movements, but now it was impossible to go anywhere unless they were using Chris and Levin's car. 

He wondered how Viktor was going to handle it. They'd gone to the media purposefully to get help in finding Tanya, but now it was like they felt entitled to every aspect of Viktor's life. Viktor needed to give them enough to keep them interested for as long as possible, but how he was going to do that without exposing too much of himself, how he was going to heal while he did it, was beyond Yuuri's comprehension. Phichit was offering a good outlet, though, something they could point to when reporters would question, something that could keep the conversation going. If they were lucky, it would spread even in Russia. It wasn't the loud statement they hoped for, but maybe it could circulate enough to bring them some sort of exposure, some sort of lead. 

**To: The King's Skater; 14:57**

**That's a really good idea Phich. I'll ask him and let you know. Thank you for being so willing to help.**

**From: The King's Skater; 15:00**

**Of course! Hang in there! We'll find her.**

Yuuri desperately hoped he was right.

* * *

"How has your week been?" 

Viktor curled his toes in his shoes and folded his arms protectively around his middle. He hadn't even taken his coat off when he sat down on Bianca's overstuffed armchair. There was a deep appreciation that she didn't have only a couch for his seating choice. He didn't feel like he was in some Freudian study where he would be laying down without seeing her reactions, even if he knew that if he had chosen the couch, he wouldn't have been expected to lay down. 

There was a vanilla candle that was burning on her desk, but she sat in a rolling chair in front of the oak wood instead of behind it. She was comfortable like that, he could tell, and it made him relax a little too. 

"Oh, you know… it was busy." He said meekly, forcing a smile. "And chaotic. Have you seen the news?"

"I actually don't spend a lot of time on current events, I'm afraid, but I have seen your name in headlines."

"You didn't read the articles?"

"I figured it would be best to let you tell me whatever you wanted me to know, rather than trying to gather information from third parties."

"Oh…" Viktor hugged himself a little tighter. She didn't ask another question, and just gave him a small, encouraging smile. It felt like an eternity before he opened his mouth to speak again, if only to fill what he felt was an awkward silence, wondering why he'd thought she was the therapist for him. He wondered if he could bring in Chris again, just to keep the talking going. Chris was always good at that. "I um… how was your week?"

"It's been busy, too." She answered perfunctorily, "Holidays are always busy, aren't they?"

"I guess so." He answered, casting around in his mind for a topic that was safe. The holidays he'd spent with Yuuri weren't really what he wanted to talk about. They were treasured memories that he didn't want picked apart just yet. He didn't want to talk about the press, either, or Ivan, or even Tanya - because Tanya would lead to all the other subjects. The ice rink and coaching was out, too, as potentially leading topics, and his panic attack had embarrassed him to no end, even if Yuuri had been amazing. "I um… I went to the doctor this week."

"What kind of doctor?"

"An omega specialist. She wanted to check me over after my heat, run some tests, that sort of thing." 

"How did it go?"

"It went fine." He lied. The appointment itself had gone as smoothly as Viktor could expect, but he had hated every second of it.

The doctor was friendly and open, an omega as well, and she'd explained everything thoroughly. He was no stranger to physicals and so he'd gritted his teeth through the intrusive fingers and the speculum (a new addition since becoming an omega), had coughed when expected to, had pulled his soft gown over his stomach for an ultrasound, had peed in the cup provided, and glanced away through the pin prick of a blood test where they took more vials than he'd expected. The hospital had forwarded his records, and with so many partners having an unknown variable, they weren't only testing his hormones and general wellbeing. They were testing for social diseases and Viktor had not even thought about that frightening prospect before that moment. Of course, he should have, shouldn't have trusted that Ivan also added that sort of screening to the clientele he had entertained, but he'd never had any symptoms of anything that he could remember, and Ivan never used protection, so he'd assumed all was well. 

It was better to know for sure, though, as the doctor had pointed out when he'd nearly protested the extra testing. The other tests were also for his fertility. Another thing he'd not wanted to think about, with the one product of his womb being so far from his reach, but it was explained it could affect his future heats and health, so he'd relented. Suppressants were also denied. Because he'd only had one regular heat, he'd be forced to go through at least three more over the next year to ensure completely healthy hormone levels. He was already dreading them.

Bianca gave him another smile, and he knew she'd caught the lie. Inwardly, he sighed, and began searching for another topic to talk about, but she took pity on him and offered, "How long have you known your friend Chris?"

He latched onto it, happily; relieved that he had something to talk about that wasn't really related to anything he didn't want to discuss. She listened as he told her how they met, laughing with him as he told her how they had met at the European Championships so many years ago. It was easy to talk about Chris, and he figured it offered her some insight into who he was as well - at least, who he had once been. He had even removed his coat about halfway through the discussion, the warmth of the office and the pleasant smelling candle making him feel more at ease. The subject moved easily from how amazing and supportive Chris had always been, even in the height of their professional rivalry, to Viktor's opinions on Levin and how good the alpha was for his best friend. He skirted around how odd it had been to 'wake up', as it were, to Chris being mated and married, and focused on how attentive they were to each other. Then their conversation screamed to a halt as she asked a question that viscerally reminded him that he was there to 'work' with her.

"You seem to really admire their relationship. Is that something you want in your future, too?"

"I…" he faltered, his gaze immediately shifting to the floor. He gripped his knees with sweaty palms and sighed, "I don't really like thinking of a future like that…"

"Do you know why?" she asked. It sounded curious rather than judgmental, but it still cut him deeply. 

"Because… I guess it's because I don't think anyone will want me like that, now. The most I hope for is…" he took a deep breath. An image from his fantasy, the one where Yuuri was holding Tanya, flashed in his head and he violently shoved it away. He couldn't hope for something like that, couldn't imagine saddling anyone, Yuuri or otherwise, with his mess, "I just want to have my daughter. That's all." 

* * *

It had been a few hours since Viktor had gone into his room to sleep, so instead of knocking like he normally would, Yuuri opened the door as softly as he could with his towel and sleep clothes tucked under his arm, hoping he wouldn't wake up the omega. It turned out, that was not necessary, as Viktor was sitting up in his bed, blankets covering him to his waist as he rested his arms and head on his knees, face turned to the window. He didn't give any sign that he heard Yuuri coming in, and suddenly Yuuri felt like he was invading. 

As he took a step back, intending on closing the door behind him as silently as he'd opened it, he heard Viktor's quiet voice, "If you need to shower, go ahead." 

Yuuri still felt like an intruder, but he went in anyway, the click of the door giving them privacy from the pair that were still in the living room watching television. He didn't move toward the bathroom, however, and just stood there in the dark quiet. Viktor didn't move at all. The moonlight was the only illumination, casting the room in milky light through the sheer curtains. Viktor's hair caught it, giving him a soft halo that reached his white long sleeved shirt. From Yuuri's vantage, he was able to see the ring of teeth marks on his neck. He'd seen them before, Viktor really didn’t hide them on purpose except for the turtleneck at the press conference, but they were so often bundled up in warm clothing, they weren't noticeable. 

Viktor sighed deeply, turning his head away from the window and toward Yuuri, letting his cheek still rest on his folded arms. 

"Do you think an omega's bond with their children can tell if they're safe?" Viktor asked softly. His question came genuinely, and Yuuri knew he wanted to know his thoughts on it, that it wasn't coming from a place of hopelessness. Yuuri met his eyes, twisting his mouth into a pensive line. Viktor didn't try to pry anything from him, he just waited patiently for Yuuri to pull together his answer.

"Once…" Yuuri began, and he had to swallow to make his voice work properly, "There was one time… I fell at the rink and sprained my wrist. Celestino took me to the doctor and we got it looked at and wrapped, and I was okay, but it was when I had first moved to America. I was still struggling with English, Phichit and I weren't really friends yet, and… I was really, really scared. Terrified, actually… that I had broken it, and that I'd be recovering for a long time after moving so I could have a better chance at skating. When… When I got back to my dorm, I realized my phone had died, and… when I was able to get it charged, I had a lot of missed calls from my mom. I thought… I thought something bad had happened at home, because it was the middle of the night there… but when I called her, she said she'd had a feeling that I wasn't okay, and was worried about me." 

Viktor's eyes crinkled as he finished his story, and he let out a breath of relief. "I think Tanya is okay… I've always thought that. Felt it. I feel like… she isn't happy, but she isn't miserable either, or hurt… Do you think that's strange?"

"No." Yuuri answered easily, finally entering the room fully and going to sit on the edge of Viktor's bed. "I think it's probably a relief, right?"

"Yeah." Viktor sighed, and swallowed thickly. "It's… It's a relief, but it hurts, too. Like… Like she's not being loved, and that's…" 

The rest of his sentence was a bit choked and Yuuri reached over to the hand that was dangling off his knee, giving a squeeze. "But… that's not really true. You love her." 

"I do. So much…" Viktor whispered, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing. When he opened them again, they were shining in the muted light, glossed and bright, "Can you thank Phichit for me? It means a lot that he's doing what he's doing." 

"I'll tell him." Yuuri nodded, letting his hand come to rest behind him and leaning back. At dinner, Yuuri had brought up Phichit's questions and Viktor had agreed immediately to him posting about the Russian censorship, and to making public statements through the account. Not five minutes after Yuuri had texted Viktor's agreement, Phichit's account had shown a sketch of a man that had Viktor's hair, but had his mouth covered with a hand and a Russian flag in the background. The text he'd posted along with it had explained the situation, indignant, but factual. An hour later, it had over five-thousand likes and had been shared across every social platform. Phichit had said it was good, that it was quickly going viral. Viktor said he would make a short video the next day, which was Christmas in Russia, to wish everyone a happy holiday and to give updates.

They both let a comfortable silence fall around them. After a few seconds, Viktor let his head fall onto Yuuri's shoulder, and with his deep exhale, his scent eased into wistful. 

"It's easy to be with you, Yuuri." Viktor whispered, "I'm glad it's easy."

Yuuri couldn't help the snort that bubbled from his nose, but he was smiling. "I think you're the only one that's ever thought so. I don't even think it's easy to be with me, and I'm always stuck with myself." 

There was shifting behind him as Viktor turned and placed his chin where his head had been resting and hummed, "I think you should be kinder to yourself."

"So should you." Yuuri said without thinking. While blood was filling his face, Viktor rumbled a small laugh that Yuuri could feel against his back. 

"Probably." Viktor agreed and placed a quick kiss on Yuuri's cheek, which didn't help the redness that was still building, but at least he wasn't facing the moonlight. "What time is it?"

"Just past ten."

"Then it's Christmas in St. Petersburg…" Viktor mused, and Yuuri could hear the fond smile in his voice. "_Schastlivogo Rozhdestva, _Yuuri."

"_Merīkurisumasu, _Vitya."

* * *

The sun peeking through the sheer, cream colored curtains told Otabek that they'd slept in far later than what was normal. Winters in St. Petersburg meant only six hours of daylight, so for their beige room to be bathed in the cool blue of a winter sun meant it was very late, indeed. Blinking his way out of sleep, he was already aware of the alpha breathing heavily behind him, sleeping the way only a teenager could, likely a damp dark spot beneath his mouth. He supposed he was still a teenager, too, but only just.

Flexing his shoulders against the soft pillows beneath his shoulders, he coaxed himself to push up off the bed and turn toward his alpha. While they hadn't bonded, yet, he knew it was only a matter of Yuri becoming a fully fledged adult for it to happen, especially as he'd only finished presenting as an omega the summer before. No one but the doctors were surprised at his early mating presentation. He was early enough in presenting that his general practitioner had wondered if he was just late presenting as a true omega, but the specialist confirmed that since he'd already completed puberty and his growth spurts, the presentation was because he'd found his true mate early, not that he was late. Yuri had turned red for a week when Otabek told him he was the other half of his alpha, but no, it hadn't been a surprise. Draping himself over Yuri's chest and dropping his head against the bare shoulder, he smirked as Yuri squirmed beneath the sudden weight.

"You're heavy, idiot…" Yuri mumbled, still half asleep. His grumpiness had no bite, though, so Otabek just let his weight rest more fully on him, which only made his boyfriend groan and scowl with his eyes still closed. "Beka… off…"

"_Pozdravlyayu s Rozhdestvom_, Yura. Sun's up." he said quietly, his voice still raspy from sleep and head beginning to register the hangover he'd be nursing for the morning and through their festivities. Lilia's small party the night before had been a lot of fun, a couple early gifts exchanged, and far too many dishes to break their competition diets. Yakov had relented though, and would likely be nursing his own hangover with how much he, too, had celebrated. Otabek let his eyes fall closed, but felt Yuri shifting beneath him. They'd been together long enough for him to know Yuri was only looking at the window to see if he was right.

"Fuck… Why did you let me sneak that vodka last night?"

"Mm… teach you a lesson about underage drinking." Otabek hummed lowly as Yuri's hand went to the back of his head and traced along the edge of his undercut. He only chuckled as Yuri tugged on his hair sharply.

"Ass…" Yuri grumbled sleepily.

Otabek would have been completely content to stay as they were for the next hour or so. It wasn't often they were allowed to sleep in, much less able to curl up together lazily without any errands to run or tasks to complete first thing after waking. It seemed the rest of the house was happy to take advantage of a quiet morning as well, as there weren't any sounds of Lilia or Yakov waking or moving about. As Yuri's breathing began to even out again, his fingers stuttering to a stop in his hair, Otabek's eyes shot open, narrowed sharply. 

All laziness forgotten, he shoved himself to sit up, glaring at the window.

"Beka?" Yuri asked, still dazed and flopped on his pillow. A narrow hand rested on his bicep and Yuri pulled himself up. When Otabek didn't say anything and continued to stare out the window, completely still, he felt Yuri stiffen as he noticed it, too. A low growl began in his throat. "What the fuck is that?"

"I don't know…" Otabek admitted, voice tight and shoulders tensed, tossing the heavy blankets off his legs. Something wasn't right, something disturbing the peaceful morning. It felt… aggressive and sinister, but he couldn't tell what it was. He went over to the window with quiet footsteps, as though whatever had them both on edge would snap if his step were to be too heavy. Hand bringing back the curtain slightly, Otabek looked down into Lilia's front yard. 

Everything was covered in snow, glowing saffron and gray with the sunrise. The blanket of weather belied the picturesque garden with carefully constructed topiaries that bloomed in pinks and purples in warmer weather. Hedges with branches so dense you couldn't see through it even without their leaves acted as a secondary fence to the wrought iron one that framed the property. It all looked serene, the city waking up slowly after celebrating all night to bring in Christmas Day. Except for everything was silent. Even the winter birds were still, soundless, which perhaps was what made him antsy in the first place. 

"Do you see anything?" Yuri asked, moving behind him to perch on the edge of their bed on his knees. Otabek slowly shook his head, but still fixed his gaze on the entry gate. He couldn't see anything definitive, but something drew his eyes to it, like it was slightly blurry compared to the rest of the yard. A slight movement from beyond the hedge made his head snap to attention. It didn't take long for him to recognize the figure that appeared from behind the corner, sauntering toward the front door, a hand hidden in his jacket.

"Fuck. Yura, call the police!" Otabek ordered sharply, bolting from the window and out the door. He knew Yuri wouldn't ask questions about it, knew that he'd felt the same disturbance he had. 

As he rushed down the long hall toward the staircase, Yakov was pulling a robe on as he came barreling out of his room. He was tense as well, eyes flashing dangerously as he met Otabek on the plush carpet.

"It's him." Was all Otabek needed to say for Yakov to understand. Whatever hangover the two of them would have been nursing was gone in the face of the threat. "Yura is calling the police. But I think he's armed."

Yakov swore under his breath as he tied his robe into place over his pajamas. "Get back to your room, Altin." The older man demand. Otabek opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a fierce pounding at the front door, and a loud voice shouting for Yakov. Both of them scowled toward the staircase and Yakov started toward it. His path was blocked, however, by a fierce Lilia emerging from the master bedroom.

"What on earth..?" she asked harshly, her hawk-eyes flitting between the two of them and toward the stairs. It didn't take her long to fling an arm out to prevent Yakov from descending toward a confrontation, understanding the situation quickly. "Don't be such a man. This is my home, Yasha. I'll take care of it."

"The hell you will." Yakov growled at his ex-wife. Otabek heard Yuri coming out to the hall, his voice snapping urgently on his phone, though he couldn't understand exactly what was being said. He was caught between the couple arguing in hushed voices and his boyfriend behind him, and he didn't know what to _do._ It was clear Ivan was after something, probably searching for Viktor, or maybe he was just after revenge. Either way, every single one of them were in danger. 

"Beka," Lilia commanded and he jumped to attention not unlike a soldier, or like one of her students at the barre, there really wasn't much difference when it came to the ballerina. "Take Yura and lock yourselves in your room."

Otabek was about to protest that a locked door wouldn't do much if Molchalin had a gun, but Yuri was suddenly by his elbow with his phone still hanging from his ear.

"They'll be here in five minutes." he told them all, his eyes wide with fear. Five minutes. That wasn't very long at all, but it might still be too much time with how the pounding at the front door had increased frantically. 

"Yasha, take care of your students." Lilia snapped and turned to make her way down the stairs. She was closest to them, and Otabek's blood ran icy as her swift and decisive movements seemed to play out in slow motion.

"Madam!" Yuri shouted, lunging forward and giving Otabek barely enough time to catch him around his waist. Yakov was snarling her name and about to go after her, but Yuri slipped through Otabek's grip and Yakov was the next to actually catch him, holding him fast and wrestling the svelte teen back into Otabek's arms. "Let me go!"

Yuri kept repeating the phrase and it was all Otabek could do to keep him there, trying to do as Lilia asked and dragging him back toward their bedroom. Blood was rushing through his head, and he could barely see for the panic that gripped him. Yakov had almost started after Lilia again, but when he saw Otabek's struggle with the still-fighting Yuri, he stepped back and began pushing both of them toward their room. Between Yakov's growling voice and Yuri's snarls, they couldn't hear the pounding of the door anymore until there was a cracking shot and the sound of wood splintering. 

All of them froze.

"Lia…" Yakov muttered a split second too late and they heard her icy voice demanding the intruder leave. Yuri's nails were digging into Otabek's arm and neither of them were breathing as they listened to the increasingly heated exchange, unable to make out the exact words. Lilia's tone was thrown into sharp contrast of the masculine timbre that quickly dissolved into a threatening growl. Their coach was running to the top of the stairs when two shots nearly at the same time made their ears ring.

The sound made Otabek's muscles slacken slightly, and it was enough for Yuri to slip out and chase after Yakov, who had already disappeared from view with a shout of "Lia!" strangling from below. Otabek sprang after his boyfriend, catching him right before he could take the first step down the grand staircase.

"You _son of a bitch!_" Yuri was screaming as he clawed at Otabek's arms again to get free. "I'll fucking kill you! You're dead! Do you fucking hear me!?"

Over Yuri's continued writhing and pitched, explicit threats, Otabek looked down to see Lilia crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. What he hadn't expected to see was a pool of dark red spilling around the other dark figure that was on the ground by the fractured door, howling in pain and gripping his leg. Yakov had made it down the stairs and was headed right toward him. Ivan hadn't even noticed him until it was too late, both of them lunging for the gun that had fallen to the marbled floor. The coach beat him to it, aiming it right at his face.

"Give me a fucking reason, Molchalin." Otabek heard him growl, and it was then that he realized Yuri had stopped struggling, stopped screaming, and was holding onto him with desperate fists in his sleep shirt. Ivan's face was pale, eyes wide with terror, and he let out a whimper. 

Yakov's back was to them as he took a step toward Lilia, the firearm still trained on the fallen intruder. Lilia was moving, struggling to sit up, and it was then that Otabek saw red on the shoulder of her dressing gown. 

"Yasha. Don't." She commanded, her good hand covering the tear in the cloth, putting pressure on her wound. Otabek finally_, finally, _could hear the tell-tale sirens of help drawing closer and he let out a breath of relief. A dry sob from beneath his chin drew his attention back to Yuri and he wrapped his arms firmly around him, for comfort rather than restraint this time. 

"It'll be okay, Yura…" he said quietly, his own voice wavering and his eyes burning. The chaos of the previous moment left the scene completely still, with Ivan sobbing over his injury and Yakov standing between him and Lilia. The fierce woman got to her feet and went to stand beside her former husband, putting a hand on his trembling forearm, both hands holding the gun and shaking. 

"Vitya needs you here." She was saying quietly. "And needs _him_ alive."

Yakov's grip tightened on the gun before it went slack, letting his hands fall back to his side. 

"Don't threaten them." she told him. From the front yard, they could hear shouts amidst car doors slamming and hurried footsteps. The pair backed up toward the stairs, Yakov putting the gun on the floor too far away from Ivan to do any more damage and far enough from himself to not be a threat. Both Yakov and Lilia had their hands raised in front of them to show they were no longer armed as a half dozen policemen careened their way into the entry hall. Otabek and Yuri watched as their coach and ballet instructor were shouted at, demanded to get to their knees and Ivan screaming that they had attacked him without cause. 

It was only when the police saw the two of them at the top of the stairs and told them to kneel with their hands in front of them that Otabek let him go. They both obeyed immediately, Yuri's eyes already beginning to puff up with unshed tears.

"I-I didn't even know she had a gun…" he whispered, and Otabek could barely hear it over the thundering footsteps of the police coming up the stairs toward them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> 1\. _Schastlivogo Rozhdestva_ \- Merry Christmas  
2\. _Merīkurisumasu_ \- Merry Christmas  
3\. _Pozdravlyayu s Rozhdestvom_ \- Happy Christmas (Direct: I congratulate you with Christmas)
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger! I'll hurry for the next chapter. <3 
> 
> Update on the Regency Fic: The plot is giving me no end of trouble, but I've made some good headway in the last few weeks, so hopefully I can begin actually writing/publishing it.
> 
> Fortunately/Unfortunately(???) I also had a big strike of inspiration for a super-fluffy non-omegaverse ficlet that has been bouncing around my head non-stop, as well as a one-shot in the same canon-universe of 'Ridiculous Remedies' (I know canon-universe fics have been done and redone, but I love them all and I can't help but add in a few of my own). I have no idea when I'll finish them, but I'll admit, with a wee bit of shame, that they have been taking up a lot of my writing time, which is why this one had such a long update time. I'm sorry!!! But I hope you like them when they get posted.


	17. The War Outside Our Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire_   
_The war outside our door keeps raging on_   
_Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone_   
_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_   
_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now_   
_Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound_
> 
> _~ Safe and Sound, Taylor Swift and The Civil Wars_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None

"No. That's not it either." Viktor sighed exasperatedly, his blue eyes boring into the two skaters in front of him. Chris caught Yuuri glancing at him, worriedly, as Viktor turned to demonstrate the footwork he'd had in mind, for what had to be the tenth time, on the rubber mats. Yuuri and Chris both knew full well what he was trying to show them. They weren't novices, and what he was showing them wasn't too terribly difficult. Levin had become mysteriously deaf, too, when Viktor had tried to get his attention to see if _he_ could get it right, since the two of them had mysteriously become clumsy, and Chris blessed him for it. 

It was perhaps a little too much of a push. Yuuri had been against it at first, and Chris could see his student's resolve waning the longer the charade went on. Chris had remained firm. His heat was coming fast, and already he was feeling the tell-tale signs of pre-heat. Yuuri needed a coach for a couple days, especially with Four Continents looming in the coming two weeks. It wasn't a pre-requisite that Yuuri's coach be on the ice, but it would help. It would help _both_ of them.

He'd also watched Viktor all week while they were at practice, could tell the omega was fighting the itch to get out on the ice. Viktor had even started to do the warm up stretches with them only to idle by the boards as they worked. Plenty of interjections had been made, suggestions for positions of Yuuri's feet, or hands. He had seen the pages of choreography that Viktor had already filled, and worked on while they were waiting for appointments, or even after dinner while Yuuri showered and Chris and Levin watched tv, scribbling out ideas and diagrams instead of joining them. Viktor had been glued to Yuuri's past performances on his phone, Chris and Levin's performances, and Chris had even caught him watching his own for reminders and inspiration he'd forgotten. 

If Viktor was able enough to give Yuuri choreography tips, was already plotting for Yuuri's next season, then certainly he could get on the ice and demonstrate it for them. But the choice was Viktor's. Chris had been adamant about that fact. They wouldn't actively suggest he grab a pair of rentals and join them. It wasn't so crucial a move that it would harm Yuuri's program in any way if they didn't get it right. If Viktor's perfectionist nature prevailed, maybe, just maybe, they could coax him out onto the ice. 

"W-well… let me try again?" Yuuri offered, and Chris hid his smugness at how Yuuri was still on board, at least for the moment. He took off and made a few corrections, but then turned his foot at the end which led Viktor to groan from behind the boards. 

"Perhaps a break, _mon cher?_" Chris suggested innocently. "We can try it again later, but I don't want all our practice time dedicated to something that will only give less than a quarter point."

"He's so close…" Viktor muttered, running a hand through his hair and taking a sip of his coffee. "Just…"

Chris silently watched Viktor as he seemed to internally debate something, hoping that they hadn't pushed him too hard. Yuuri skated over, sheepishly, unable to look Viktor in the eye, and Chris knew he was about to break. Viktor eyed them both up and down, thoughtfully, and then slammed his cup on the edge of the boards with a huff.

"Damn you both. I'll be right back." He snapped, and Chris' stomach gave an excited lurch as he fought down a grin. Yuuri made to move toward the exit and Chris caught his arm as they watched Viktor storming away.

"He's upset!" Yuuri hissed at him, scowling and dragging Chris along on the ice. Chris dug in a pick and held firm.

"Not that upset, _mon chou. _Give him a minute." Chris hummed quietly, and Yuuri huffed, though he stopped resisting. "Pretend we've moved on to something else. Try your camel spin combo."

Yuuri's frown increased, but he did as he was told, skating away and doing the footwork that led into his spin flawlessly. Chris moved for a better vantage point, to see Yuuri and also to keep an eye on the entrance to the rink. 

"Hold your sitting position tighter." He told Yuuri, "Free leg a little higher if you can." 

He ignored the glare it got him, but Yuuri had proven to be an excellent student. He flew into his spin and Chris couldn't help but chuckle at how Yuuri could make a spin seem frustrated. 

"Excellent. Do it again."

Yuuri did a quick lap around the area they had claimed for their practice and then performed his lead-up into the spin. It was while he was crouched and whirling like a top that Chris saw Viktor at the entrance, tapping a booted heel to situate his foot in a pair of worn, beat up rental skates. 

When Yuuri came out of his spin and righted himself, it was to Chris beaming and tears brimming, not even looking at him. The skater froze and watched with astonishment as Viktor held tightly to the board and extended his foot onto the ice. It wasn't like watching someone who was experiencing the slip and slide of the frozen sheet for the first time, but Viktor still held his body far too tensely for a former professional as he pushed forward. He stumbled once, and then pulled himself upright before he could fall, and that was it. The gliding strides became suddenly sure, and he quickly made his way over, stopping in front of the pair of them. 

"These boots are shit." He said breathlessly, and Chris threw his arms around him. Viktor laughed and clapped him on the back twice before stepping back, eyes bright and elated. Yuuri was staring in awe. Viktor grinned at him and gestured toward the ice. "You got me out here. Let me see it, the right way this time."

"_Chérie_, I think we need a demonstration." Chris teased, wiping his eyes on the back of his gloves. He was testing his luck. He knew it, but the excitement of the little plan working won out on common sense to not push even further. It was in their nature. Push and push forward again. "You saw it yourself, we are both helpless." 

Viktor rolled his eyes and skated toward Yuuri, hand outstretched. Yuuri blushed, but took it and let Viktor lead him a few meters away. 

"Don't take your eyes off me." Viktor demanded as he moved into position, and Chris thought Yuuri was about to pass out if he didn't remember to breathe. It started shaky, Viktor going through the motions a few times before finding a more sure footing. It was almost magic, how Viktor was able to remember to trust his skates, how to rotate his hips and shoulders. Chris could see that his ankle didn't have the mobility it once did, but no one else would have been able to notice. Perhaps with skates that held better support in the boot it would be imperceptible to anyone but Viktor.

After Viktor had it down himself, he turned expectantly to Yuuri. All of them knew that Yuuri didn't need another demonstration, but Viktor lined himself up near him anyway, and they started together. Chris knew he was a grinning fool as they moved completely in sync, Yuuri's eyes not straying from Viktor for a second. 

"Again." Viktor said, his entire being vibrating with energy and adrenaline. Yuuri was concentrating hard, giving his whole attention as they practiced. Chris could have been invisible at that point, but he truly didn't mind watching the incredible spectacle. Viktor was smiling, but focusing just as diligently. They performed the footwork four more times together before stopping, Yuuri alongside him.

"Y-you're not mad?" Yuuri asked tentatively and Viktor visibly softened.

"No." He told him and then chuckled, "Though if either of you try for a new career, do yourselves a favor and don't make it acting." 

Yuuri beamed at him while Chris burst out laughing. Viktor's giggle was cut short by a blaring ringtone from his pocket, and he reached into his jacket to retrieve it, still smiling. "It's Plisetsky. I'll be right back." He told them, already moving toward the boards so he wouldn't be in the way.

Chris returned his attention to Yuuri for a second as he heard Viktor answer his phone cheerfully, feeling rather proud of their successful faux-con, when Viktor's tone turned confused with a "Georgi?" And then another question in Russian.

It took Chris the amount of time to remember who Georgi was and to turn around to look at Viktor questioningly for Yuuri to whiz past, already sensing what took a second longer to reach him. The scent of a distressed omega. Chris felt slow as he moved to action, Yuuri holding onto Viktor's shoulders as he listened to whatever Georgi was telling him. The distress flooded heavily, acrid and bilious, around them as Viktor began to shake. Yuuri was practically holding him up, Viktor's knuckles white and tense around his phone. Brown eyes frantically sought Chris out, beseeching him for help as Chris was already slamming into the half-wall to stop and braced Viktor from behind. Viktor spoke in rapid Russian, the names 'Lia,' 'Yanya', and 'Vanya' the only recognizable words to Chris. As the two men continued to hold onto Viktor, their gazes met again, each terrified of what news their friend was receiving. He asked another question, this time about 'Yuri' and 'Otabek', his free hand coming to cover his mouth to stifle a sob. 

Chris hadn't even noticed himself calling out to his mate through their bond, but Levin appeared out of nowhere. Seeming to read the dire situation and launching himself over the boards to stand on less-slippery ground to hold onto Yuuri, who was bracing the majority of Viktor's weight. By the time the short phone call ended, and the phone slipped from Viktor's grasp with a sharp clatter on the ice, Viktor was sobbing in earnest, all but collapsed against an extremely shocked Yuuri. 

"What happened, Vitya?" Chris asked, forgetting to keep his voice soothing and coming off as urgent and demanding. "Is everyone okay?"

He could only see Viktor shake his head as he continued to soak Yuuri's shoulder, the younger skater digging into the ice with his toe picks to stay upright, even with Levin's arms extended over the boards and around his shoulders. Yuuri's hand came to rest on the back of Viktor's head protectively, his expression frightened and unsure. Viktor only held him tighter, which made Yuuri adjust his grip to be firmer, too. 

"Vitya…" Yuuri said softly, "W-why don't we get off the ice so we can sit down?"

It seemed to take a couple seconds for Viktor to register the suggestion, but he nodded. Yuuri carefully moved Viktor and turned, keeping his arms fully supportive, and giving Chris room to assist from the opposite side. The exit seemed so far away as they slowly made their way toward it, Viktor's sure steps just a moment before suddenly stumbling. Levin met them at the break in the boards, reaching out to help Viktor off first while Yuuri kept his hand on Viktor's back with his own step off. On a surer surface, Yuuri was better off holding him, and the group made their way to the benches where they had dropped their things. 

Viktor took a deep breath and sniffed, his head bowed and his eyes coming into more focus as he stared at the floor.

"Your skates…" he muttered to Yuuri, "Y-your guards…"

"They're due for a sharpening anyway." Yuuri said quickly as they plopped onto the seats. Viktor wrapped himself around Yuuri again, burrowing his face away from everyone into the beta's soaked shirt as Chris looked at Levin helplessly. He wasn't sure what to do. There were reporters at every exit, and it would take forever to bring the car around. A quick glance around the rink told him they were being watched by the other coaches and few skaters that were either arriving or leaving. It was a social media disaster waiting to happen, if they hadn't already posted Viktor getting back on the ice. There was a gag order across the entire rink for posting _anything_ about Viktor or Yuuri, but Chris knew teens would be teens and just sharing to a 'trusted' friend could blow up quickly.

Levin was unlacing his boots, keeping watch over all of them as he jerked his head toward Josef's office. Oh - it was now _Chris_' office. He had completely forgotten in the moment. It was lined with windows overlooking the rink, but had shades they could close for more privacy. Immediately, Chris dropped to one knee and began unlacing Viktor's skates, gently removing them and pulling his winter boots into their place. Levin helped Yuuri with his and softly told him the recommendation to move them into the office. Yuuri nodded and whispered soothingly to Viktor, urging him to stand back up. Levin stayed behind to gather all their belongings as Chris led them into the private room. 

It wasn't particularly large, but once Josef had given it to him, Chris had wasted no time in making it comfortable. On longer days, he'd been able to take a nap on a leather couch to recuperate between running practices, and he'd also installed a couple comfortable chairs for his skaters and him to have easier conversations face to face instead of staring them down from across a desk. There was a large water dispenser and a kettle for tea or pour-over coffee, and Chris set about boiling some water. Viktor was still latched to and crying on Yuuri, who simply held him close as he eased them onto the couch. Levin soon entered and shut the door, checking that all the shades were drawn shut, and placed their skates and water bottles behind the desk. It was only when Levin handed Chris his guards that he realized that he still had his own skates on.

It wasn't until the water was hot and tea was served that Viktor peeled himself away from Yuuri's shoulder, still slumped against him with a hot paper cup warming his hands. He stared miserably at it, sniffing and opening his mouth, only to close it again along with his eyes.

"Take your time, Vitya…" Yuuri whispered, and Chris outwardly agreed, even if he desperately wanted to know what had Viktor so distraught. His stomach twisted in knots as he sat clinging to his own cup of tea, Levin perching himself on the arm of the chair as a worried, but comforting, presence. 

In the way that time slows down whenever something terrible happened, it seemed to take an eternity for Viktor to finally gather his voice. It probably had only been a minute or two, but the silence still stretched like an overstrained lace on their skates, ready to snap. "He… he shot Lilia…"

"_What?"_ Chris asked without even thinking of his words, and Levin's hand grasped his forearm to temper the reaction, but the next words were already tumbling out of his mouth. "Who did? Is she okay?"

Viktor seemed to curl up even deeper into the couch, into Yuuri, and sobbed. "Vanya… he… he went to her house…"

They all listened as Viktor struggled through summarizing the phone call with Georgi, what he knew. Lilia was alright. She was in the hospital, in surgery but the wound seemed to be minor, but Yakov, Yuri and Otabek had been taken in along with Ivan to the police and were still there. Georgi had taken Yuri's cat and Makkachin to his home, and it seemed they were shaken, but also okay. 

Chris held his breath throughout Viktor talking. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Levin asked gently if they knew why Ivan had gone to Lilia's home, but Viktor only shook his head and broke into sobs again. Yuuri quickly removed the scalding hot tea from Viktor's hands and wrapped his arms around those shaking shoulders that seemed to burrow into him, looking for a place to hide, a place to not feel so much. 

The implications of the morning's events were vast, and Chris' mind overloaded in racing, incoherent thoughts. The censorship, who was behind it all, why a man smart enough to all but erase Viktor's existence would be so reckless, if Yakov or Lilia, or even Yuri and Otabek, would be alright. Below all of it though was a thrum of relief: Ivan had been arrested. At least there was that.

* * *

Getting out of the ice rink and back to the apartment had been no easy feat. Viktor was still visibly shaken, but had pulled himself together long enough to follow Yuuri through the crowds of reporters. They had waited until he was through crying, for now, and his eyes weren't nearly as red-rimmed or swollen. Yuuri had been a bit sharper than usual, snapping at two photographers who stopped in front of them and pushed flashes into their faces. It was probably how he felt Viktor flinch behind him that spurred him to get in close and demand they move out of the way, but at that moment, he hadn't cared. He also hadn't cared at how the reporters had fixated on the way Viktor was still holding onto his hand, suddenly screaming out questions about the nature of their relationship. They would pay for that later - the shouted inquiries already suggesting that Yuuri had brought Viktor out of retirement for a completely different reason than what they had announced. 

Never mind that Chris was also holding onto Viktor's other hand, it was Yuuri they were focused on. They smelled blood, and Yuuri didn't know how long it would take for them to know that the blood came from St. Petersburg, or if they even would - with how the media had stifled everything important about Viktor's interview. 

Yuuri still did his best to keep his own emotions under control. Years of masking an anxious scent proved to be a boon as he held his hand still, even if he wanted to shake so badly he came apart. It had taken Viktor ages to let go of him, and Yuuri had given everything he could to comfort the omega. The way Viktor's scent had barreled into him like a falling boulder when he received the news had left him reeling. He'd never felt so distraught over another person's scent before, but he was glad his instinct had been to immediately be at Viktor's side. The ice was the worst place to receive bad news. A mental blow could easily be combined with a physical one if balance couldn't be maintained. 

It was all too much, too much for one man to go through. The way Viktor's barely recovering strength all but left him as yet another bad phone call from home shook Yuuri to his core. He felt helpless, drifting, and so all he could do was hold on. Hold on and give off as many calming pheromones as he could muster. 

They had piled into the car and Viktor had immediately buried his face into Yuuri's neck again as Levin aggressively maneuvered out of the parking lot. It didn't take long for the reporters to understand he meant business as they all fled out of the way. Yuuri had disentangled himself enough to help Viktor put his safety belt in place, as well as his own, before he put his hand on Viktor's head. The whimper that left Viktor's throat gutted him, tears swimming in his own vision as the streets of Geneva passed by the window. 

Getting into the apartment building had gone smoother, if only because they were arriving at a different time than they usually did. There were those that camped in front of it constantly, but they were easier to fend off as they rushed through the doors and to the elevator. 

Once the door was shut and locked tightly behind them, Viktor had removed his shoes with trembling hands and made a direct line for the couch. It was there that he slumped, removing the pink handkerchief from his pocket and taking a deep breath from it. Chris followed and sat next to him, asking if there was anything they could do for him. 

"I just…" Viktor's voice was gravelly and strained, like he was forcing out the words. "Georgi said he'd call… when he knows more..." 

Yuuri hesitated in the entryway with Levin, sharing a worried glance with the alpha. 

"I'll start lunch." Levin said quietly in offering, and Yuuri nodded gratefully. His gaze returned back to the two men on the couch, conversing quietly. Chris seemed to be whispering a few suggestions and Viktor was nodding along. The blond omega took out his phone and stepped out onto the balcony, frowning as he dialed a contact. It left Viktor, looking lost and alone, staring into an unknown space. Yuuri wasn't sure what to do now, his arms feeling suddenly empty without holding onto Viktor, helping in giving whatever comfort he could. It was then he realized that helping Viktor also helped him, too.

Tentatively, he walked over, seeing Viktor's shoulders seize up as he approached. Yuuri paused, his hand outstretched and then let it fall back to his side. For a split second, those blue eyes flickered with some sort of apology, but then glazed over once again. His scent was guarded, now imperceptible and shut down. Yuuri shifted from foot to foot. 

"Levin's making something t-to um… to eat." He said quietly. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed, like it took a second to register what he was saying. 

"Okay." The omega croaked out, but didn't make any other movement. The difference was astounding. It was as though Viktor was trying to stay completely empty, like he had retreated completely. It was disconcerting. 

"I'm sure… um… I'm sure she'll be okay." He said, taking a shot in the dark. Viktor only nodded once, looking back down to his hands that had twisted his handkerchief into a tight spring, holding onto it with white knuckles. 

"I'm tired." Viktor whispered, and somehow it meant so much more than just the exhaustion of an emotional morning. Yuuri couldn't think of anything else to say, was unable to tailor a response to tell-tale signs that were normally there, because now there was nothing. Viktor stood, his movements stilted and mechanic. Yuuri could do nothing but watch as he moved to his room and shut the door with a soft, decisive click that pierced right through him. 

The rest of the afternoon was fitful for everyone. Yuuri ended up using Chris and Levin's shower, not wanting to bother Viktor in his room, and set about making himself as useful as possible. He helped with the laundry, tidying up, and was the one to make dinner. Viktor didn't come eat either meal. When Chris wasn't on the phone with someone from Russia, he was in and out of Viktor's room, which was eerily silent. Each time Chris would emerge, he would seem wan and teary eyed, but he didn't say anything about Viktor's condition. 

He did, however, explain that Lilia's wound had been through her shoulder, but the bullet had missed the bone. She had been very lucky, and the surgery went very well. After a few days of observation, she would be free to go home. There had also been an interrogation of the morning's events. Lilia, along with Yakov, Yuri, and Otabek, had all been questioned and Ivan had been found at fault, at least for this incident, and would not be released any time soon. The skaters and their coach had been able to go home.

Yuuri breathed a quick sigh of relief, but the feeling didn't last long. The question that no one seemed to know the answer to was why Ivan had did it in the first place. His personal feeling was that Ivan was somehow after either Viktor himself or wanted to take revenge on Viktor's escape by going after the ones he loved most. It seemed Levin and Chris both agreed, but they didn't discuss it much. The speculation taboo and thrumming with the underlying fear that the reason was far worse than any of them could imagine. What little they did speak of it was given in whispered short sentences in case Viktor would come out of his room, or could somehow hear them through the thick wooden door. 

Further questions lingered in how the press was going to cover it. If there was going to be any coverage at all in Viktor's home country, or if it would be swept under the rug. The fact that three prominent figures in one of Russia's most beloved sports were hauled into the police station, and a beloved prima to the hospital, would normally be any journalist's dream to rip into. There wasn't any way that they would be able to keep it completely silent, was there? Yakov's connection to Viktor's sudden reemergence to the public would surely be part of the conversation. 

When Yuuri finally went to bed, his body was exhausted, but his mind was buzzing. There wasn't going to be any way that he'd be able to sleep. He was grateful the coming morning was a rest day, but he was still looking at the future hours with no small amount of trepidation. Not only was he worried about how Viktor's attitude seemed to do a complete turn around, but he also had his appointment with Maria in the late evening. So much had happened, so much that left him reeling still more and more, that he didn't even know where to begin to talk with her. 

The first few months of sessions with her had been rough, to say the least. He'd shown up, talked about the week's events, they'd brush on his coping mechanisms for his anxiety, she'd give him homework to continue improving, and that would be that. It wasn't that he didn't try to think of things he wanted to talk to her about, he definitely did. He would ponder all week and have a list of things he wanted to delve into more with her, to get her insight and understanding, but somewhere between the parking lot and signing in for his appointment, he would forget everything important until he hopped back into the car he and Phichit shared. More often than not, he'd groan and slump his head against the steering wheel in frustration at forgetting yet again what he'd wanted to talk about. 

He'd brought it up, finally, and she had just smiled. Maria had said it was common. Like it was a sort of performance anxiety that made him forget his lines as soon as there was an audience. Her solution had been simple: Write it down. Make a list. Yuuri didn't know why he didn't think of that in the first place, but after that very easy task was presented, that was how he had approached their meetings for several more months until he was able to cut back from once a week to twice a month, and from then just periodic 'maintenance meetings' for whenever he felt the need to have someone to talk to. 

With a sigh, he brought up his memo app on his phone, staring at the blinking cursor that was waiting for him to begin typing. It was like the first time he'd made such a list all over again. That time he had physically written it down, instead of typing it out, and he'd stared at the blank paper for a good fifteen minutes before finally jotting down the first thing that came to mind. At the time, it had felt a little silly to just write down what was bothering him. They were such little things. Little things that needled in the back of his mind that he really shouldn't have been bothered by. Now it was the exact opposite. These were big things. Huge things, just as Phichit had said. Things that involved more than just how he felt. To write down a simple phrase to sum up the enormity of the events that had completely transformed the lives of everyone he'd ever known seemed disingenuous, callous. 

It was with another scowling sigh that he began writing, reminding himself of what Maria said to him the time he brought up an item on his list was _'Making these lists is hard.' _Her solution to that had also been simple. These were just reminders, a little personal cue card, so that he could remember in the important moment what it was he'd wanted to discuss.

As the memo grew, he realized that there wasn't any way that they would be able to get through everything in one session. That wasn't a surprise. He'd felt like he'd lived an entire lifetime, or three, in the past four months. That kind of upheaval wouldn't be just an hour talk and then suddenly everything would be okay. It was very likely that Maria would suggest weekly sessions again to get through everything quick enough so that Yuuri wouldn't crash and burn. So far, he felt like he was keeping a pretty good handle on things. He had learned so much about himself, about how he could better cope, how to work within his anxiety rather than against it, that he'd been able to actually be proud of how he'd been able to maneuver through all the events. Phichit would be proud, too, for Yuuri being able to actually admit that to himself. Five years ago, he hadn't even really been able to take pride in a good, solid performance. The minute failures or mistakes of performed routines became an obsession, even when his scores had been really good. 

Yuuri had made so much progress. He wanted to keep it, and he was relieved that he knew better how to ask for help when he needed it. 

The list continued to grow, going through the auction, of how it was to act like a buyer, meeting Viktor, their friendship, his unresolved feelings about being around _Viktor Nikiforov_, childhood idol, versus the man he had come to know, how deeply the pain and suffering surrounding him was affecting him, how he wanted to be helpful, supportive, without losing himself in the process. How to cope with the media and scrutiny, as well as how to continue his skating career on top of everything else made it to the list, too. It didn't take long, but after he had jot down everything he could think of off the top of his head, he continued to stare at the words. They still seemed too simple, too frivolous and as though he was missing other things to talk about, but he knew that would be a passing feeling once he actually spoke to Maria. She knew him well enough to draw more out of him now. 

It was while he was going through a compartmentalized mental check once more that there was a quiet knock on his door. The sound was so soft, he wasn't even sure he'd heard it. It could just as easily been the radiator kicking on, or Jolié playing in the living room, as nocturnal pets are wont to do. He sat up, looking at the door dubiously, wondering if it had just been his imagination. The clock on his phone said it was late, far too late for anyone to be up. 

"Come in?" he called out gently, curiously. He wasn't expecting the door to actually open and for Viktor to step in and close the door behind him. 

The dull light of his phone was the only illumination in the room. His room was tucked in the back corner of the apartment, so there were no windows to let in any ambient city light, or even moonlight. It took a second for his hand to move to the lamp that was on his side table, and the dull glow revealed Viktor had swollen eyes. His hair was completely rumpled, and not in the cute way that it had been when they'd giggled together just the other day. He stood with his back against the door, expression sheepish and embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry…" Viktor rasped out, looking at the floor and barely glancing Yuuri's way. "I'm… I had a nightmare… can I come in?" 

"Of course." Yuuri said at once, moving to lift his blanket out of the way so he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Viktor's motions were jerky and forced, but he crossed the room and all but fell onto his knees before him, hiding his face right on Yuuri's thigh with a stifled sob. "Vitya! Are you okay?" 

It was half a question of what was actually wrong, and half of checking to see if he'd hurt himself with the force of falling. Viktor shook his head without looking up, and Yuuri couldn't help but wonder how he was even breathing. Gently, he tried to lift Viktor's head up, turn his shoulders at least, but Viktor tensed and stayed where he was, his torso heaving with his crying. 

Yuuri's mind spun. The last he'd seen of Viktor was a definite withdrawal, from him and from everything, and yet, just hours later, he was laying across his lap. He knew full well how turmoil could make one cringe away from others one moment and then need the same person near the next, but he wasn't sure if that was what was happening here. 

"I hate this… I _hate this, _Yuuri!" Viktor sobbed into his knees after a moment, clutching the sheets at either side of Yuuri's hips. "He took so much from me… he took everything. He smashed my ankle, he sold every part of me, he made me believe he _loved_ me, and Tanya… she shouldn't have even been born! Not like that. A child… a pregnancy… should be celebrated… not resented for the first part of her existence… And now… my... My mom. He tried to… _I haven't even called her!_" 

Yuuri stared, dumbfounded and scared, stomach lurching at the information that Ivan had indeed been the one to break Viktor's ankle. He'd suspected, but Viktor had never specifically stated what had happened. He didn't know what to do. Viktor was shuddering, looking prostrate if he'd been on the floor instead of kneeling against the bed. Somehow, his proximity made it worse, like he was begging Yuuri to fix it, to make everything better, to make _Viktor_ better. For a brief moment, his hands hovered over Viktor's shoulders, unsure. Tentatively, he placed one on his back and the other on his head, stroking through the thick hair there. 

"She's okay, though." Yuuri murmured softly, having no idea if he was saying the right thing. It hadn't worked so well the first time around. "Your mom- Lilia… she's okay. You can still call her." 

"And… and _you_!" Viktor continued to sob as though he hadn't heard anything, his eyes desperate in the dull light as he looked up from Yuuri's lap. His heart clenched with uncertainty at the way it sounded so accusatory, "You're so… why… I just take and take from you… why do you let me? Why… why are you so _good_? Why didn't I meet you sooner? None… none of this would have happened…" He hiccuped through his sobs, "I just… I just wish…" 

He couldn't finish his sentence, burying his face back into Yuuri's knees. With shaking hands, Yuuri continued to comb fingers through his hair. His own eyes welled up, even as he fought it down. It wouldn't do either of them any good for both of them to be crying. Whatever Viktor wished, Yuuri wished it too - for them to have met differently, on the ice, like he had hoped so long ago. For Ivan to not have been able to take him… but it would also mean, at least in part, wishing that his beloved daughter never have been born. 

"Let it out…" he whispered instead. He wasn't sure if Viktor could hear him, but at least he was able to sense the pheromones Yuuri released. Carefully, he calmed his own breathing, pushed comfort as much as he could, but knew his own sadness was eking its way into the scent. Viktor shivered as he gasped a deep breath, and his exhale was far smoother. Yuuri took the opportunity to help Viktor off the floor, and this time he came along. As he scooted back to give the omega some room, intending to just sit alongside him like he had in Chris' office at the rink, he blinked in surprise as Viktor curled up into his side. The push of it had Yuuri's back into the pillows of the daybed, so they were almost laying next to each other. Viktor's head rested on his shoulder, his sobs no longer violent, more breath now, than raw gasps. 

"I'm sorry…" Viktor cried softly. Yuuri opened his mouth to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for, but he continued. "I… I just…" 

"You don't have to explain…" Yuuri responded gently, the arm around Viktor's shoulders squeezing to reassure him. 

"When the reporters kept asking about our relationship… You didn't ask for that." Viktor explained. "I realized that maybe I…" 

He sat up, seemingly realizing the position he'd maneuvered them into and frowned. 

"I think I'm relying on you too much." He whispered. "Like I'm putting too much pressure on you to help, and you've been kind and patient and strong, and I’m…" 

Yuuri stayed quiet as Viktor took a shaky breath. Those blue eyes looked away, blinking out a few stray tears that had yet to fall. He was waiting for Viktor to finish his thoughts, but was already preparing what he wanted to say in return. Where Viktor saw him as being too much a burden on Yuuri, he disagreed entirely. While it was always stressful to share in other's worries, their pain and how they struggled, it wasn't too much. It was why he had his own support system in place, where he could do what he needed in order to be able to help, and Viktor… Viktor was worth every worry, every moment of anxiety. There had been so many good moments, too.

"Vitya," he settled on when Viktor didn't say anything more, "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be."

Yuuri didn't know what made him do it, didn't even realize he really was doing it until he reached out to the man, a hand on his shoulder gently pulling him back down. It was only a slight pressure, but Viktor gave in easily and curled up closer to Yuuri than he had been before. Yuuri's arms wrapped around him protectively, and it sent Viktor into deep sobs once again. 

"I don't… I…" he wracked out, "What y-you've done… what you've been through, too… I just- I'm so selfish, Yuuri… I can't do this alone… but it doesn't mean that you should have to do this - to go through all of this shit… All _my_ shit and… what you must feel… what you must think…"

"Vitya, stop…" Yuuri was firm and for a moment he felt a twinge of guilt for how Viktor immediately stopped sobbing and looked up at him, confused behind the sheen of tears. Yuuri offered a small upward twitch of his lips and smoothed some silver rumpled hair as best he could without a brush. The contact seemed to soothe the man, his eyes fluttering slightly as he leaned into the touch, his scent, now that it was quiet. "I… don't regret a single thing."

Viktor's eyebrows knitted together, confusion making a reappearance, but Yuuri interrupted.

"But I'll tell you how I feel about some of it… if you want." Viktor nodded slowly, and Yuuri breathed deep. There was a lot he could talk about, he could easily sweep it all under a rug. He could pretend it wasn't affecting him. It would be disingenuous, but safe. Instead, he opted for a bit of honesty. Viktor deserved more than just placating words. "I didn't… I didn't like pretending to be a buyer. I hated it. I h-hated… _buying_ you… and that the perception was… that I was like them. It hurt, that they thought that…" 

"I thought that… at first." Viktor murmured, and Yuuri found himself smiling a little fondly. Their encounter that night had been anything but smooth, and at the time there might have been a twinge of hurt that Viktor saw him as a rapist, but that had been easily dismissed. His over anxious brain had somehow overcome that easily, especially after how the next time they'd met it had been so warm, so trusting.

"I understand why… It… I-I hated making you feel like… that I saw you that way. Because I would never-"

A long slender finger perched right at his mouth, silencing the rest of his earnest statement. "I know. It was very obvious after I got over the shock. I'm sorry." 

Yuuri's arm instinctively tightened around Viktor's slender form, far more thin than he'd ever imagined. In fantasies past where he'd had Viktor in his prime in his arms like this, he'd imagined a much broader form. This, how they were now, was different than the hugs, the helping him stand straight when his legs couldn't hold him. It was much, much closer to the intimacy he tried not to crave, the fantasies he only pulled out when he was feeling particularly self-loathing and in need of comfort. He never actually _believed_ he'd hold Viktor like this, in bed, sharing tears and thoughts he would normally only share with Maria. 

"Don't let what _they _think of you affect how you think of yourself." Viktor let his finger fall away and he curled his hand against Yuuri's shoulder. "They aren't worth it. They aren't worth anything. Everyone who matters knows the truth - that you're a good, selfless, trustworthy person."

"I'll try." Yuuri said softly, "Thank you."

Viktor nodded with a sniff, his jaw moving like he was chewing on his cheek. Tentatively, he asked, "Is there anything else?"

It took a minute to respond, Yuuri's mind racing through the list he'd just made on his phone, but instead, what came out surprised them both. "I hate him."

They both froze in their subtle movements, their breathing, the minute ways their muscles were flexing in holding their positions, it all stopped. Once it was out, though, there was no going back.

"I hate Ivan… for what he did t-to you, what he took, what he _thought_ I was going to do to you… he was going to let me… I hate him. I-I've never hated anyone before…"

There was a deep breath from Viktor, a release of some kind as he clenched his eyes shut tight. "I… I don't. I don't hate him. I wish I could… But it's like there's something in me preventing it. Maybe it's because I loved him so much. Before." Viktor's eyes wrenched shut, "But I don't love him now, and I'm so… _so_ angry… " His voice cracked and he hid his face in Yuuri's shirt, making his next words seem small, muffled, "Is it bad that I'm glad you hate him?"

"I… I don't know if it's bad. I don't think so."

"I want to hate him. I really do. He's the exact definition of a bad man…"

Yuuri ran a hand over Viktor's shoulder with a squeeze, "It's okay to feel how you feel."

"I know… just…" Viktor huffed with frustration and then peered back up at him, "Can you hate him for me? Just for now?"

"Yeah." Yuuri breathed, "I can do that." 

Viktor's next breath was shuddering, like his lungs couldn't quite remember how to work smoothly, but his shaky exhale settled him deeper into the pillows, more snug against Yuuri. His scent was no longer distressed, it was relieved. Yuuri turned his cheek to rest against Viktor's head, absently running a thumb over his shoulder without even realizing he was doing it. They stayed there in a comfortable silence for a good while, so long that Yuuri's eyes had drifted closed even if sleep wasn't ready to overtake him. Just telling Viktor a few things was already making his heart less heavy, that Viktor was able to soothe over what was probably his biggest concern about that entire night with a simple acknowledgement that he _wasn't_ the kind of person to ever think of another as means to a very sick end. It helped. 

"Do you mind the scent bond we have?" Viktor asked quietly. His voice was no longer wavering, but it was breathy with exhaustion. As out of the blue as the question seemed, Yuuri wasn't entirely surprised Viktor might wonder about it. He'd wondered about it, too.

"Do you?" He countered, it was only as he stilled that he realized he had been caressing Viktor's shoulder in idle patterns.

"No." Viktor's next deep breath was finally easy. As Yuuri glanced down he realized that Viktor was talking with his eyes closed, his brow no longer furrowed. He was speaking casually, like he was just confirming what he already thought about the situation, confirming that Yuuri thought the same. "But I'd understand if it was… too much or too soon."

"I don't mind it." Yuuri answered without hesitation. "As long as you don't."

"It helps." Viktor said simply, and Yuuri's throat grew tight, hot. 

"It helps me, too." He said through the narrow passage of his vocal cords. Viktor nuzzled against his shoulder again, a small smile creeping over his face. They fell silent again, and it took a minute for Yuuri's muscles to fully relax again, but when they did and his eyes fell shut again, he was very nearly dozing when Viktor spoke again.

"Yuuri?"

"Hm?"

"Can I sleep here tonight?" He asked, sounding very much like he was already halfway there. "I don't want to be alone."

"Yeah." Yuuri mumbled into his hair, "I don't want to be alone either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Author's Note:
> 
> I call this the chapter of feelings (I'm sure there will be more). Next time we'll see more about what's going on in Russia! Thank you all for your patience and support!
> 
> I swear I had more I wanted to say here - but now, of course, I can't think of what it was >.<
> 
> Everyone stay well and healthy <3 I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing alright
> 
> ((**Edit:** I changed Viktor's diminutive for Yakov, _again_. What is 'Yasha' for everyone else is now 'Yanya' for Viktor only. There's a very good reason for this, [it might be totally obvious why, but I'm not 100% sure], which will become apparent soon.))


	18. If I Could Change the Way You See Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And you say, "As long as I'm here_   
_No one can hurt you_   
_Don't wanna lie here_   
_But you can learn to_   
_If I could change_   
_The way that you see yourself_   
_You wouldn't wonder why you hear_   
_They don't deserve you"_
> 
> _~Everything I Wanted - Billie Eilish_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
None :)

Viktor's eyes blinked open slowly, sure he had heard something that roused him from the deep slumber he'd been enjoying. His eyes felt crusty, his nose raw and his throat strangely open, hollow, before he remembered why. He'd all but cried himself to sleep, and the reason… He gasped sharply, eyes going wide, realizing he wasn't looking at his own wall. Pushing his head up, he looked over to the man next to him, the one that belonged to the scent that had lulled him into such a comfortable sleep.

Yuuri was awake, brow furrowed as he watched Viktor.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Viktor swallowed thickly. He needed water, lots of it, but he nodded.

"Are you?" he croaked out, feeling embarrassed by his voice's sandpaper quality.

Yuuri nodded carefully, his eyebrows still knitted together. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah." Viktor replied after he swallowed, sinking back down onto the pillow. He'd been sleeping on his stomach, which he really didn't do often, but it meant an arm was still there to support his head. The truth was he'd actually slept very well. Surprisingly well. After the nightmare that had left his heart pounding and all thoughts of rest running for the hills, he'd not thought he would be able to actually fall back to sleep. Jolting awake and then scrambling to the room next door without even really thinking about where he was going until he was crying in Yuuri's lap seemed distant in the face of the vulnerability and confessions they'd whispered together. He was supposed to feel shame, he thought, in the wake of Yuuri's admittance of the things that had hurt him. Yet, it had put them into a similar situation. Both of them had been there, in Moscow, on opposite sides of the event but of same mind - and neither were at fault for the pain. Viktor knew their conversation had meant more than just a sharing of thoughts, but what it meant, exactly, was still elusive. What he did know was that they were closer, and it was something he'd never experienced, not even with Chris.

"Um… If you…" Yuuri floundered as he tried to put together his sentence, flushing adorably across his nose. Viktor couldn't help but wonder if Yuuri felt the same connection. He must have, with how his scent was still all warmth and security and the note of anxiety seemed only caused by trying to find his words. With a quick breath he fixed his gaze on Viktor's face. "Do… do you have nightmares a lot?"

Viktor's eyes spread wide. "Yes…" he breathed, feeling his own face flush at the admission. It had been so for years. Mostly, Viktor couldn't remember the nightmare itself, and couldn't actually dictate the events in the scenes his mind created that left him sweaty, nauseous, and heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. The ones he could remember, though, were bad enough that he was grateful his brain protected him from worse. "Sometimes they're not bad… but sometimes they are."

"Last night was bad?"

"Yes." It had been another he couldn't remember, but he didn't have to. When he'd finally found his way out of it, he'd been able feel where hands had been on him, a ghosted imprint of his nerves reacting to something that had been imagined, or remembered. His ears had been ringing like someone had screamed, high pitched and frantic, right next to him. He hoped Yuuri wouldn't ask for details.

Yuuri seemed to chew that information for a moment before opening his mouth, his voice shy. "If you… if you ever don't want to be alone… y-you can come in here." When Viktor's eyes widened even more he hurried to add, "But only if you want to!"

Viktor couldn't help the grateful smile that crossed his face, or reaching a hand over to clasp the beta's with an affectionate squeeze, "Thank you, Yuuri."

His smile was sweet, and his eyes that matched part of his scent were tender as he relaxed his head back into his pillow, holding onto Viktor's fingers as they nestled over the back of his hand and into his palm. 

"Chris came in a minute ago. I think he was looking for you." Yuuri said softly. Viktor felt his nose dust pink at the thought of Chris seeing them curled up together. "He left as soon as he saw you were in here."

"He was probably worried."

"Probably." Yuuri agreed with a fond smile.

"We should probably get up."

"Probably."

Viktor laughed softly as Yuuri's smile grew wider and shifted himself up with a stretch and a contented groan. Yuuri sat up as well and they both crawled out of bed, Viktor heading padding over to the door so he could retreat to his room to complete his morning routine. He paused by the door.

"Yuuri?" He said, turning to face the man who was gathering up clothes to change into from his armoire.

"Hm?"

"Thank you again."

Yuuri's expression melted from questioning into another gentle smile. "Anytime Viktor."

As soon as Yuuri's door clicked shut behind him, Viktor was greeted by the sight of Chris looking up and then quirking an eyebrow. 

"Everything okay, _mon cher_?"

"_Oui._" Viktor replied, flushing a little once again. Chris didn't look relieved, rather his brows furrowed even deeper in concern. 

"Have you received any more news of Lilia?" Chris was guessing at why Viktor might have spent the night in Yuuri's room, he knew, but he felt strangely protective of the moments that they'd shared. He didn't really want to offer too much explanation, in part because he wasn't entirely sure he knew exactly all that had transpired himself.

"Ah, no. I haven't checked my phone, yet, but if there is news, I'll let you know." Viktor took the few steps toward his own bedroom door, hoping Chris would leave it at that. He did, but he didn't look pleased about it. Once Viktor was safe in his room, he glanced at his phone that was still plugged into its charger. No notifications from anyone, but the time also stated it was early, and he was sure any visiting hours must have just begun in Russia. Sighing, he gathered up his own clothes for a shower, planning on taking a long, hot one, just so he could take some time to think.

Once he stepped into the hot spray, he scrubbed at his eyes and cheeks with the heels of his hands. The tension began to melt, but he still wasn't exactly sure of everything he was feeling. He did know he felt better, and it was thanks to Yuuri, but there was still a knot in his stomach that had been there since they'd arrived home from the rink the day before. He groaned into his hands, his head beginning to ache with everything that had been blissfully silent as he slept. Suddenly, he was yearning to be back in bed, with Yuuri's scent wrapped around him. Things wouldn't just go away if he did, but he would feel a little bit more steady, a little bit more secure. 

But that was impossible. He would have to just take the day moment by moment, he decided as he reached for his shampoo. Hopefully, there would be a few good moments, too.

* * *

The morning was spent with each of the apartment's residents doing laundry, tidying bathrooms and bedrooms, as well as the kitchen, fetching more groceries from those who wouldn't be tortured by the paparazzi, and finalizing their travel itineraries and schedules for the upcoming weeks. Chris and Levin would be leaving for a hotel the next day to tend to Chris' heat, so Yuuri and Viktor would be on their own to get to and from the rink for a couple days. Chris arranged for a car to take them to and fro, and Viktor reassured them all that he would be okay getting on the ice to coach Yuuri through the finer points of their preparations for Four Continents. Levin would be able to recover over the weekend and then would jet off to Moscow for Europeans and Viktor itched to ask if he could go, too, if only to see Lilia and Yakov at last - but his commitment to Yuuri and the danger of what might be lurking in the dark recesses of the same center where they had met kept him silent. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to return there without a churning fear. He would have to wait to meet up with them in PyeongChang. 

Just two days after Levin would be in Moscow, the rest of them would leave for Taipei. Chris thought, and Yuuri and Viktor agreed, that getting to Four Continents early would be best for all of them. It would allow them to settle for a couple of days before the competition, and hopefully allow them to navigate the city in relative peace to plan their routes before the bulk of newscasters would get there to hound them. Their plan for after that trip was to go straight to Korea and meet up with Levin there, to spend a week before the Opening Ceremonies. They would have to get their own hotel for that time, but it would be easier than traversing the two continents over and over. They were just deciding on which hotel would be best to book two rooms when the doorbell rang, all of them pausing and looking apprehensively at each other, before it rang insistently again. Levin stepped into the entryway to peer through the peephole in the door and announced with a relieved chuckle that it was the mail.

Several packages were surrounding a winded deliveryman, and so Chris helped to haul them in. Viktor's stomach clenched and heart leapt as he saw Lilia's familiar scrawl on two of them, and then was dreadfully curious about the one addressed to him, but postmarked from Japan. He knew what was in the ones from Lilia, clothes, his credit cards, and probably some comforting snacks, but he couldn't bear to open them on the dining room table. Squirrelling those away to his room to open privately, not ready for the raging emotions he would no doubt feel as he went through them, he returned to poke at the remaining package, Yuuri staring curiously at it with a slight flush on his cheeks. It was quite large, and had cute stickers of cats and an adorable golden puppy in a brown beret decorating the outside. 

"That's my _okaa-san's_ handwriting." He explained sheepishly. "I forgot with… everything, but she texted last week after Morooka's interview that she was sending a package for you. It's probably just sweets and things like that."

Viktor's face split into a grin, his heart swelling, "That is so kind of her! She didn't have to do that."

He carefully peeled away the tape and opened the box with his three flatmates watching. Viktor's eyes widened as he gazed at the contents. There was so much! On the very top, there was a letter addressed to him, but as he opened that first, he found its contents in Japanese and he thrust it under Yuuri's nose eagerly.

Yuuri laughed as he took the letter, "Um, it says,

"'_Dear Vicchan,_

_'We all enjoyed meeting you through the phone on New Years and are happy to hear how you and Yuuri are becoming friends. The interview you gave with Morooka-san aired yesterday, and all of us here in Hasetsu agree that you are very brave for continuing to look for your daughter. We hope she is found very soon so you can be reunited as a family. If there is any support we can give you, we hope to be able to offer it. In the meantime, we wanted to send you some good food to keep up your strength and spirits. _

_'We are all looking forward to meeting you face-to-face in PyeongChang to help cheer Yuuri on in the Olympics, and to be friendly faces in the crowds in case you need it. _

_Your friends from Hasetsu,_

_The Katsuki Family and Okukawa Minako'"_

Before Yuuri finished translating, Viktor's eyes were brimming. He wiped them away hurriedly and looked down to the colorful packages in the box, biting his lip and taking a deep breath. Chris slung an arm around his shoulders, looking a little choked himself as he smiled and placed a quick kiss on the side of his head. 

"Your family is really thoughtful, Yuuri. Will you tell them I say thank you?" Viktor asked quietly, looking up to see Yuuri folding the letter carefully and placing it in its envelope before handing it back. Viktor took it reverently and stroked a thumb along the ink of his name. "And that I'm excited to see them in person, too?"

Yuuri nodded and swallowed thickly. "Of course."

They exchanged shy smiles, the package momentarily forgotten over sharing the moment. Viktor had a sudden dire urge to lean over and kiss Yuuri's forehead. As a thank you, as a sign of how much it meant to him to have Yuuri's and his family's support, or as just an inexplicable burst of affection, he did not know - but the immediate impulse surprised him.

"Well, _chérie?_ Aren't you going to open the rest of this, or shall I?" Chris squeezed his shoulders, looking between them with a discerning eye that didn't miss whatever charge had just happened across the table. Viktor laughed it off and dug his hands into the gift, going for a white box that he recognized as refrigerated packaging. That would contain perishables, and the sooner it was opened, the better. He hoped it hadn't got too warm on its trip overseas. 

He pulled off the colorful tape and gave a wide-eyed dramatic grimace to brace himself for any odd smells he might encounter that made Yuuri laugh before pulling the lid off. Inside were several packets of food, and a lot of packaged ice that Viktor was surprised to see wasn't melted, along with a little thermometer that stated the temperature was well within good limits so the food wasn't spoiled. He didn't, however, recognize any of it. Yuuri stepped forward to look inside and as Viktor pulled each item out, he explained each one. Most were ingredients for meals, and as excited as he was to see the actual contents, he loved even more how Yuuri's face was fond and reminiscent, excited to share cuisine from his home. He recognized a few, such as miso, soba noodles, and tofu, but others such as natto, enoki mushrooms, shirataki noodles, and something called 'dango'.

Viktor's cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling as he examined each item, eagerly stating that he wanted to try every single one first as it was described. Yuuri really was good at cooking, and as much as Viktor enjoyed eating the more familiar European faire that was found constantly on their dining table, he really had enjoyed it best when it was food Yuuri had made. 

"Amazing!" Viktor squealed as he pulled out sweets, these being a variety of flavored Kit Kats, ginger chews and strawberry milk candies. He grinned as he showed each of them to Yuuri, who offered explanations and fond memories of eating each of them with his sister and his friends. The beta had already stored the perishables in the kitchen, and Viktor couldn't wait to try those either. It was overwhelming, the love and care that was placed into putting together the package from people he didn't even really know. People who cared about him just because Yuuri cared. 

Toward the bottom, there were four bundles wrapped in tissue paper, carefully taped together with colorful strips depicting a puppy cartoon character jumping and playing in the sunshine. Small cards written in both Japanese and English labelled each one. There was one addressed to each of them, Vicchan, Chris and Levin, and the last had a card only written in Japanese, which he assumed was for Yuuri. As delicately as he could, he lifted the tape and pulled the paper aside to reveal a dark green… well, he wasn't sure what it was. It was definitely some sort of clothing. He looked to Yuuri with a quirked brow for further explanation. 

"Ah! _Jinbei!"_ Yuuri laughed as he opened the bundle addressed to him. "These are the robes we give guests to wear at Yu~Topia when they come to stay." 

Viktor beamed and threw his arms around Yuuri's shoulders as Chris and Levin each opened their own, both grinning and speaking together in rapid French. 

"Next time you call your family, can I take a minute to thank them?" Viktor asked as Yuuri returned the hug with a laugh.

"Yes, of course." Yuuri smiled up at him as they stepped apart. Viktor had the urge to kiss his cheek this time, and bit his tongue to hold it back, and something in his expression obviously changed, because Yuuri gave him an odd look for a split second before it gave way into a soft chuckle. "Let's find places to store all this in the cupboards."

"Okay." Viktor agreed, feeling his ears burning as he turned to help gather up all the packets of food, but not before he opened up one of the sake flavored Kit Kats and took a bite.

It wasn't until after lunch that Viktor decided he should unpack the other boxes that were stashed in his room. Chris and Levin were off packing and preparing for Chris' heat in their room, and Yuuri was just finishing the dishes when he noticed Viktor shifting as he looked toward his bedroom door.

"Do you need help?" he asked gently as he dried his hands. Viktor startled at the question and then sheepishly looked to his bedroom again with barely a nod. He led the way and closed the door behind them, eyeing the two large boxes sitting on his bed warily. Yuuri moved into the room and sat gingerly on the ottoman that had been his seat for most of Viktor's heat and waited patiently for Viktor to take a seat on the bed and pull one of the boxes closer.

"I just…" he began, looking to Yuuri who gave him a sad, encouraging smile. "I don't know all of what they sent. I know my skates and some workout clothes and financial documents, but…"

"It's okay Vitya." Yuuri said softly. Viktor nodded and took a shaky breath.

"What if… it's too much?" He voiced his fear in a barely-there whisper, and Yuuri leaned forward as though he hadn't heard him very well. "It could be a lot of… memories."

"It might." Yuuri agreed gently. "But you don't have to keep anything you don't want to."

Viktor nodded again and took another bracing breath and opened up the first box. The contents were about what he was expecting. His skates with the golden blades and Russian flag, his red and white skate Olympic jacket, and a variety of clothes. He pulled everything out, one by one, keeping his motions perfunctory and clinical as he stacked it all neatly beside him. There were shirts and pants and new packages of his favorite brand of underwear and socks. Most of it was athletic, but there were jeans and button-downs, as well as two garment bags containing his navy plaid peacoat as well as one of his newer suits he had bought shortly before Ivan had taken him. Nestled in the bottom was the duffle bag he had used for his skating gear while training. He spread all of it out on his bed and then sat down heavily next to Yuuri on the ottoman, staring.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri asked tentatively, and Viktor bobbed his head once, his eyes glassy.

"Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of it…" he muttered on a trembling voice. "Of course, my skates and jacket and the suit and coat, but… It's like it's all familiar, but not really mine."

Yuuri wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his hand across his bicep soothingly. The silence stretched between them for a few moments, Viktor trying to remember when he'd bought that green shirt, or the jeans that looked as though they came from America. When he'd thought of the clothes that he'd be sent, there hadn't been anything specific that he thought of, but now that it was all here, he was recalling his favorite pyjamas that he'd lounge around in, or his blue striped shirt that Makkachin found particularly soft. Those were not there, and he missed them. 

But what he found he missed most of all was the scents that would have been on them. All of it had been cleaned, and neutral. Freshly laundered and not smelling of home at all. 

"Is there anything that you don't want?" Yuuri asked after a few moments, and Viktor shook his head.

"I don't know how it will all fit, but I'll start trying things on later." He said, his voice sounding a little far away.

Next to him, Yuuri gave his shoulders a squeeze, and the motion grounded him. He looked over to a concerned Yuuri and forced a smile.

"Thank you for sitting with me."

"Anytime, Vitya." Yuuri smiled through his worry. "Do you want me to start putting things away?"

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I'm offering." Yuuri interrupted with a soft chuckle. "Why don't you open the other one while I do that? Unless… you'd rather me go?"

"No!" Viktor shook his head, "Please stay. I'd… that would be really nice. Thank you."

Yuuri smiled and stood to open up his armoire so he could begin hanging up the clothes. Viktor moved back to the bed and pulled the next box toward him.

The second box was smaller, but not by much, In it was his old leather wallet with crisp new cards and a stack of rubles so he would be able to pay Chris back for what he owed, as well as several legal documents which looked to be from when Yakov had sold his apartment only three years prior. There were soup mixes and his favorite protein bars, as well as what looked to be Lilia's famous _Kulich_, and some dessert pirozhki under that. There was a note from Lilia, too, and he trembled as he read it.

_My dearest Vitya, _

_Words cannot express Yasha's and my relief and joy that you are now safe. Your beautiful inner strength has carried you this far, and will continue to carry you through. I know you, and therefore know you also worry about things at home. Do not. We are here and will be here, and whenever you are ready, we will welcome you with open arms just as we did when you were a child. _

_If there is anything else you need, please let Yasha know and I will send it immediately. _

_All my love and pride, _

_Mama_

Viktor read the note over and over, tears blurring his vision as he did. Yuuri paused in reaching for another article of clothing as Viktor sniffed wetly, and brought his hand to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

"I am a terrible son…" Viktor said miserably, the guilt and fear of how close it had come to Lilia not being there when he was ready gnawing at his insides, "I still haven't called."

"Why haven't you?" The question came genuinely, without judgement as Yuuri came around the bed to stand next to him, earnestly looking at Viktor from above, though Viktor wasn't able to meet his gaze entirely as he glanced up through the silver fringe over his eyes.

"I don't know." Viktor whispered. "At this point? I think I'm scared to."

Viktor could only see out of his periphery how Yuuri sighed, and then crossed in front of him to pause at Viktor's bedside table. There was a scrape of something being picked up and then Yuuri knelt next to him, Viktor's phone in hand. 

"It's okay to be scared. And you're not a terrible son." Yuuri said softly, and Viktor's breath hitched at how it felt like a lie. He knew Yuuri was convinced of it, was telling the truth the way he believed it, but to not call his mother for something as childish as fear ate at the lining of his stomach. Blue eyes flicked to the phone in Yuuri's hand, wary, waiting for it to explode and tear him back to pieces. "But you're torturing yourself, and the longer you wait, the harder it's going to be."

Yuuri pressed the phone firmly into Viktor's palm, gently coaxing his fingers to curl around the flat device. Viktor's hand trembled beneath the weight of it, peering up into Yuuri's face. His cinnamon eyes were bright, gentle, but his jaw set and stubborn. "Call her."

He nodded, still staring wide-eyed and waiting for the phone in his hand to do something sinister all on its own. Yuuri gave an encouraging tiny smile. Viktor forced himself to blink and clear his throat. "I… um…"

"Would you like some privacy?"

Viktor nodded dumbly, still sitting amidst all his belongings from the past, his skates still nestled next to his thigh, his Olympic jacket draped over the side of the bed. Yuuri offered a squeeze of a hand against his shoulder again, attempting to impart courage in the small gesture. Tipping his nose toward Yuuri's arm, he took a deep breath of his scent, and Yuuri held still to allow it. Glancing back to the beta's face, he gave a small nod. Yuuri returned it, still with that enigmatic small smile.

"I'll go get started on dinner… if you need anything."

"Okay." Viktor agreed softly as Yuuri stood and shut the door behind him softly. 

It took him a minute to look at his phone, running a thumb along the edge of his skate boot and tracing the outline of the Russian flag on its heel. It was another moment still before he unlocked it and pulled up Lilia's number. He jammed his thumb into the call button before he could excuse himself from it with fickle reasons of her being too tired, or busy, or angry. Closing his eyes with a staccato breath, he didn't even notice how his fingers dug piercingly into his knee as he brought the phone to his ear. 

* * *

Lilia was quite alright. A little sore, but she could feel her muscles knitting together nicely and knew that this particular brand of pain meant healing and not that something was wrong. The pain killers the hospital had her on took the harshest edge off, and while her doctors had offered to increase the dosage to take away all discomfort completely - it would also mean that her mind would be relegated to a sleepy, discombobulated state. A state which, quite frankly, was unacceptable.

Besides, it was amusing to see how her charges each showed their caring and worry in their own way. Yuri had blustered his way in, once allowed to visit, demanding to know each and every detail of her recovery instructions - calling some of it bullshit (she personally agreed, even if it wasn't the crude term she would use), and peering at her with piercing green eyes when the instructions made sense, like he could command her to follow the mandates to the letter with a glare alone. He'd also pouted, behind a snarl, when he'd overheard her decline the offer for more pain medicine, that there was no need for her to 'be so goddamned stubborn' about her wellbeing. The pout had quickly turned to fear as he remembered just _whom_ he was addressing, and she'd had to hide a smile behind a god-awful pink cup filled with something with far too many electrolytes to be appetizing. 

Otabek, on the other hand, was more subtle, as he always was. Her other cup, and a pitcher, as well as a second pitcher procured from who-knows-where, was always filled with ice and water to the brim. He'd also acquired one too many blankets that were now folded neatly by the boy himself and draped across the foot of her bed, in case she caught a chill. Whenever she made to get up, mostly to stretch her own legs, he was on his own feet before she could even lift the blankets and looking to her with earnest dark eyes, pleading to know what she needed so he could fetch it. When it was that she felt the need to simply walk, he would dutifully roll the IV stand that dripped in antibiotics along with her pain medication alongside her as they took a turn around the winding halls of the private wing of the hospital. 

Her former husband was as surly as ever, barely leaving the room, and near driving her mad as he flipped through channel after channel on the television without even being able to really tell which program was which, as she tried to indulge in several magazines to read. Magazines he had bought for her, only he knew she secretly liked to indulge in them, that were stuffed full of the latest fashions from Paris, New York, Milan and Tokyo, or held the latest makeup trends and how-to's, as well as scandalous tips of bedroom life that she wished she'd known about when she and Yakov were more virile and younger. No matter, the articles would be adaptable to their age whenever the next time was they fell into bed together. It was precisely that they each had too much passion and stubbornness that they couldn't work as a married pair, but in all other things they matched very nicely indeed. But when the stilted half words and half sounds of explosions or screams from the flipping channels became too much a distraction from her indulgence in trashy reading, she'd thrown one of those same magazines at his lap and demanded he settle on a channel or she'd smash the remote entirely. His response had been a vein throbbing in his brow, which she'd always found oddly charming, and a gravelly grumble about how the hospital should be able to afford decent television. Nonetheless, he'd found a show and set the threatened remote aside. 

_Men. _She thought fondly as she flipped to the next page of idle celebrity gossip. It was an excellent way to keep track of old friends, or their children, so they could all laugh or mourn at the inaccuracies of rumor the next time she hosted luncheon. Her own son was in more than a few of the articles at the moment, smiling up at her from glossed pages in a smile that she knew wasn't entirely real. But how happy and blissfully ignorant those days had been, for all of them, by comparison. Even if the articles themselves were trashed and censored speculation meant to lead the public to believe a softer tale, the pictures themselves were precious. 

"Yasha, it's time for dinner." She said idly as she glanced at the clock, knowing full well he would hasten to whatever restaurant she desired and return with a meal, as proud as if he'd made it himself. He was now settled into his chair and completely absorbed in the crime drama playing out on the screen high in the ceiling corner. 

"Hm." He acknowledged, slowly reaching for the button to turn of the television and rising to his feet. "Anything specific?"

"Pelmeni soup, salad and a slice of medovik." A little more carb-heavy than her normal fare, but she was convalescent. Happy to indulge for a few days. Yakov grunted and then nudged Yuri's sneakers with his own foot to get the teen's attention away from the mobile game he was currently engrossed in. Apparently, the jostling made him make a mistake in the game and he growled at the screen before glaring up at his coach.

"What?" he snapped as Yakov was pulling on his overcoat, his hat already perched and a scarf draped over his shoulders. Yuri saw his preparations to leave and immediately grabbed for his coat, suddenly more amenable as Yakov had only left in the quest for food. "Dinner? What are we having?"

"_You're_ having steamed chicken and potatoes." Yakov told him as he held open the door, leaving no room for pouting, "Beka! Let the woman have some peace for a few minutes. She doesn't need any more of your hovering." He barked at the Kazakh who had seemingly been content to stay where he was on the tacky vinyl couch. Otabek remained unaffected by the sharpness of the order, and simply pocketed his own phone as he reached for his winter wear and followed behind. 

Lilia observed the whole scene with a tiny, serene smile while her eyes were still falsely cast down to the magazine she was perusing. Unfortunate genetics might have made it so she couldn't bear children of her own, but she wouldn't trade what she had now for anything in the world. She'd already decided that she would use the space and quiet time to take a shower and attend to hygiene and was already unzipping the bag of her belongings that Yakov had packed for her, (his own experience of living out of suitcases and secretive thoughtful nature meant he hadn't forgotten a single item she might need), when her phone rang. 

With a small frown, she reached for it, hoping it was her cousin's daughter Galina with more news on whether or not the man responsible for her hospital stay had been fully charged with everything on his arrest warrant. When she looked at it though, her brows rose and unexpected tears sprung to her eyes. The name _Vitya_ was displayed in cold lettering across the screen, which was so unlike the warmth she associated with the boy. She had received his phone number from Yakov, but hadn't wanted to intrude in his busy days by making the call herself. A gnawing bit of fear that she'd refused to give voice to had also stayed her thumb from simply tapping his name from her contact list. Fear that had nothing to do with Yuri's furious speculation that he had no caring for her. That was utterly ridiculous, and her telling him so had fallen on deaf ears. She knew her son, better than he probably thought she did. She knew the reason he didn't reach out, and so it was that she also knew the exact reason he was finally calling.

"Viktor Yakovlyevich Nikiforov, if you've called to apologize for things you have no responsibility bearing, I will not hear it." She said promptly into the phone, even if her voice was threaded tight and teary on the precipice of hearing his voice for the first time in years. 

"_Mama!_" The young man all but wailed from the other side. Lilia was unprepared for the gasp that left her chest and quickly covered her mouth before a cry could follow, sinking back down onto the stiff mattress. Her boy, her beloved son, it was surely his voice. As the years had eroded any sort of hope that she would ever hear it again, even though she'd seen his spliced interview, even though Yakov had reassured her over and over that he was now safe, and even if his voice was choked sobs through a phone, it didn't hit home until that moment that he was_ there._ He was there, calling her the honored and revered title that he'd always reserved for her and her alone. Viktor had never known his biological mother, and his birth father had left such a bad taste for the opposing masculine title, that Yakov had always agreed that 'Yanya' and changing his patronymic was sufficiently affectionate. She had been the only 'Mama' he'd ever known. 

"Oh, my Vitya," she whispered reverentially after she was sure her voice wouldn't break further than the rasp emotion had left, "It is so good to hear your voice."

"I'm so sor-" he chokingly began, but she immediately cut him off.

"What did I just say?" She chided gently, propping her elbow up on the wrist that was contained in a sling. "You have nothing to be sorry for, so why say it?"

"But I-"

"None of that now." She clipped again, unable to help the smile that was spreading across her face, "How are you?"

"You won't let me say." Viktor pouted. Lilia hummed through a chuckle, pleased her missives had been enough distraction from his gut-wrenching sobs. When he huffed, it was the affectionate way he had done years before, and she could almost see the small smile that usually accompanied such a sound. "I'm much better now, Mama."

"Good. It is why Yasha sent you there in the first place. He knew Chris would take good care of you, and I agreed. He's always been a loyal friend to you."

"Chris and his husband, Levin, have been wonderful, and so has Yuuri. He's… he's the one that gave me courage to call you. Practically shoved the phone into my hands."

Lilia's eyebrow quirked at that, but she wasn't quite done with her motherly interrogation, yet. She would circle back around to the topic, "And you're eating well? Yura and Beka both said you were quite thin. You're regaining your strength?"

"Yes, Mama. Yuuri and Levin are good cooks."

"How are you enjoying Geneva?"

That question came with a pause and a deep breath, "'Enjoying' would be too strong of a word…" Lilia's heart clenched, but she stayed silent, her normal cue that she required more information, "I miss home, and it's been so busy. I've seen doctors and have a therapist, and… I don't know, it's all been so much."

"Too much?"

That brought another deep sigh, and a small "_Da._" that Lilia had to strain to hear. Most of the information he was giving wasn't news. Yakov had been diligent in keeping her apprised at the going's on in the few weeks Viktor had been there. Lilia was gathering every single phrase she knew that might be the sort of honest encouragement he might need to hear, but he was already moving on, "But, Mama, I need to know if _you_ are okay. Gosha told me what happened, and that your surgery went well. But you know how he is - he always tries to protect people from the worst of things and I don't want that. Especially when it comes to you."

The love she had for him bloomed hot and aching in her chest. Relief spread through her shoulders, her spine, and she found herself sitting up even straighter as a result, despite her ever impeccable posture that came from thousands of hours of training. On the surface, Viktor had always been cast as frivolous, shallow. The media, and even himself, were happy to perpetuate the notion. The gossip rags wanted a romance - a man who bore his burdens with grace and ease. Viktor used it as a defence, lest his mask slip and the romance turned into a tale of tragedy. Even his rink-mates, his friends that were closest in proximity, but not as close as they'd thought, bought it. He'd always taped his ankles and bandaged his blisters at home, if only to not make anyone fuss. At one time, anything that brought him discomfort was saved for her alone, never shying away from the difficult when encased in the security of 'home'. 

At his core, Viktor was unchanged. It was this that Lilia feared above all else, that he'd lost himself entirely. A simple conversation wasn't enough to tell how much change had been twisted into him, but it was a great comfort he hadn't completely disappeared into the depths of hell he'd lived.

"What is it you'd like to know?" She asked.

Viktor paused, "Everything."

And so she told him. He listened quietly, as did she for any telltale signs that this, too, was 'too much'. Lilia was never one to hold back the worst either. The perfection she demanded out of life could only be achieved by facing the wrong so it could be excised, fixed, healed, but she was no fool in that there were many paths to healing. Most times, it was a slow process, a focus on one fragment in turn. Others, it was a balancing act. By fixing one thing, sometimes another broke and needed attention once again. It was the way she approached anything, from ballet production to emotional endeavors. For Viktor, he'd always seen the large picture and systematically prioritized the damage into a singular focus that couldn't be deterred for anything. She could imagine his face, his mouth a flat line, his eyes narrowed and piercing each piece of information that was fed to him, giving hums of acknowledgement as a new shard came to light. 

"You shot him." he finally whispered as the tale wound to a close.

"I did." She answered. It wasn't defensive, for she had nothing to defend. "I was informed he was seen to by a surgeon, and from there was taken to a police infirmary." 

"Where um… where did you aim?"

"His knee." Her voice was still carefully casual, perfunctory. "If he were a dancer, he'd never be on stage again. I doubt he'd even be able to teach."

She couldn't help the wry quirk of her mouth as Viktor gasped. She hoped he didn't think she didn't know _exactly_ what that man had done to her son, what he had taken away. It wasn't as much as what the man had probably hoped, however. Viktor _could_ teach. He still had a place on the ice, or at the very least with it. If her aim had been a bit higher at first, toward a middle section that would normally devastate a man, and she then readjusted for the small piece of justice she could mete, that was her secret. The first trajectory might have meant Ivan's death, which, while spectacularly deserved, would have meant the possibility of her son's chances of finding Tanya diminished. She would not add to his burdens, no matter how much she'd itched to emasculate the one who'd destroyed her family's lives. 

"But he shot _you_, Mama!" Viktor's voice was edging back to hysterical. "I don't give a damn about his stupid knee if it almost cost your life!"

"It didn't even touch bone." She tutted, "A few stitches and rest is all it cost. I'm well enough to accompany Yasha and Yura to Moscow in a few days, so stop your fretting."

Viktor did as he was told, taking a few shuddering breaths to calm down again.

"Can I at least apologize for not calling sooner?"

"You may if you can tell me the reason."

"I… I don't actually know. I wanted to, but… I couldn't bring myself to do it."

Lilia chewed his phrase over in her mind for a moment. She had suspected several reasons, but a few stood out clearer than the others. "I imagine it's for a similar reason that I could not call my own mama after I was told I would never have children of my own. It was threefold for me. First, I did not want to cause her pain or worry, second, there was a certain amount of guilt at a failure, even if it wasn't of my own making, and… Sometimes, Vitusha, our own pain is so immense, we do not want our closest loved ones to bear witness, because in being in pain ourselves, we bring that pain to those who love us, and find ourselves in the impossible situation of wanting to give comfort to them, rather than receiving the comfort we need. Does that sound right?"

The sob that came through was confirmation enough. 

"I am not angry or hurt you didn't call, Vitya. I wanted you to heal enough before we spoke so that we could find comfort in each other, instead of you hurting because I was hurting for you. Are you to that point?"

"I-I think so."

"It is alright if you are not. I am patient and will be here whenever you're ready."

"I'm there, Mama… I want to talk to you."

"I'm glad, my Vitya. I am proud of you." The words hung between them for a beat, two-three, and Lilia allowed them to sink in until the sounds of Viktor's sniffling calmed again, "Now, tell me about this Yuuri. He sounds like the finest of young men."

The wet giggle Viktor emitted at her request was beautiful enough to nearly undo the harrowing years before. Lilia settled back into her bed, letting the piece of her soul that had been missing settle into her chest once again as Viktor launched into the many, _many_ details of Katsuki Yuuri and their days spent together. Her heart warmed as he spoke, especially when she heard of the package that had been sent by Yuuri's family, knowing that there were others also worried for the wellbeing of her son. By the time Viktor had excused himself for dinner with kisses and promises to call the next day, the rest of her noisy family clambered through the door laden with bags that smelled delicious, arguing over the next day's training schedule and who would stand guard over her. She also had a very strong inkling that one day she would have another son who would fill her to the brim with love and pride, and a fierce, burning hope her granddaughter would be among them, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Important Note:
> 
> For those of you who read all the previous chapters before getting to this one (and therefore didn't see the other announcements), there may be a part in this chapter that is incongruous with how I've written Viktor's addressing Yakov in the past. I've updated Viktor addressing his coach to 'Yanya' - the context of this chapter will illustrate why.
> 
> ### Author's Note:
> 
> Woooow! What a whirlwind the last few months have been. There have been some good highs and some low lows, lots of busyness and craziness, but THIS IS FINALLY HERE! I'm sorry if I worried some of you that this wasn't still on my radar. It definitely is. Most definitely. And I am very excited for the next chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> ### Links and Important Info:
> 
> [Omegaverse Info](https://saerendpity.com/fanfiction/world-building/omegaverse/) (For this world) | Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SaerenD_Pity)
> 
> Update 6/25/20: I changed my mind again about how Viktor addresses Yakov. In past chapters it has been updated to be 'Yanya'. For those of you following along with live updates, Chapter 18 will illustrate why, for those of you for whom it's always been 'Yanya' - be glad you haven't been subject to my indecisive whims <3   
Update 5/18/20: I changed Phichit's text handle on Yuuri's phone in previous chapters.  
Update 1/23/20: I went through and updated some typos and translation errors.


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